Babylon 5: The Lord Roglark Saga
by Illithid
Summary: A multi-part story dealing with the life and times of a Centauri House Lord  Jentavus Roglark , as well as others from the younger races.  Mostly canon, it takes place after the Dilgar War but before the Earth-Minbari War.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The Centaurum: October 10, 2241

The Centaurum was restless. The various nobles and members were murmuring in small groups. Last week's disaster at Quadrant 17 was on everyone's lips, as well it should be. Though there had been many border skirmishes in the last ten years with the Narn, outright war had not been seen since the Dilgar invasion was ravaging across the League. But this attack… this was something else altogether.

The conversations grew livelier. Though the Centaurum had no official political parties, several groups had eventually collected out of its sometimes murky depths. Like so many other things in the Republic of this last century, two groups had coalesced around the problems with the Narn.

The younger of these two factions were the Basifs, taking their name from a reptile on Centauri Prime. This basif is a sometime hunter sometime scavenger that seemingly kills by…waiting. It spends most of its time sunning to raise its body temperature. Though it seems to live in a nearly torpid state this is not so. Once in the water it so much resembles a log or piece of driftwood that prey never even notice it. (The basif's head bears a striking outward resemblance to a Terran crocodile). Waiting is its strength. Able to go for long periods without food, it is patient enough to let the prey come to it. It then strikes, wrapping its legs and unique split double-tail around the prey and dropping to the bottom of the lake or river, where it waits. Having four lungs, two of which it can use selectively, a fully grown male basif can hold its breath for more than 40 standard minutes on average. It makes no killing blow, no torn throat or broken neck. Its weak bite does have a mild poison, but this poison is a stimulant for most species. It causes the prey to struggle more fiercely and whips up their metabolism thus making the prey use its precious air more quickly. The basif merely holds on tight and waits as its prey slowly drowns.

Like the animal, so does its namesake faction operate. They wait, lulling others into dropping their guard, allowing time and familiarity to leave their enemies with no defense. Then they can strike and wait as the surrounding circumstances they have helped to create drown their opponent. But therein also lies their weakness. Much like the animal basif, if ever a more voracious predator moves in, they are often displaced or slain. While a basif has a long impressive mouth full of teeth, it also has a very weak bite. Its claws, while stout, are curved inward. While wholly suitable for holding caught prey, the claws are unable to flex outward making them unsuitable against another predator. Its mild stimulant poison gives another predator more speed and strength and thus, the basif dies. So with the animal, also with the Basif faction. The Basifs are often unable to react swiftly to changing situation, or are overrun by aggressiveness. They feel they can often ride out the storm, though even within their own ranks, some now wonder if the Narn are the new and novel predator, come to displace the basif.

The older and more vocal of the factions are the Vorchans. Much like the resplendent bird of prey they are brash, bold, and given to decisive action. And like the same named warship, destruction follows in their wake. Bird and warship alike often hunt in groups, swirling and diving, each attack weakening the much larger prey. Confused by the multiple attacks from seemingly everywhere, the prey would eventually die, often never knowing which attack was the final blow.

Now, while here the similarity between the birds and warships change, not so for the faction that bears the Vorchan name. Like the bird of prey, the Vorchan faction has often been its worst enemy once victory has been achieved. In nature, flights of the deadly vorchans have been known to destroy each other fighting over the prey they had just so ably slain. Once their blood is up from the hunt, and the prey or enemy destroyed, they are often apt to turn on each other in their frenzy. So it has been with the Vorchan faction. All too often once the outside threat is removed, the Vorchans fall upon themselves. In victory they are often their own worst enemy, allowing the waiting Basifs to gather up the remnants of the battlefield and take the best spoils from the Vorchans, much like their namesake basifs have been known to steal prey left on the killing ground.

And so for the last 20 years or so the Basifs have felt their star rising. They had successfully kept the Republic out of the Dilgar war. They felt that much of the recent vocal public opinion seemed with them. Even Emperor Turhan was of their mind. While their opponents gritted their teeth that conquest was denied, the Basifs gathered more and more to them. Pride of arms was replaced by pride of stability. What had once been gathered as tribute was brought in by trade. Though some would argue that it was less than the tribute had been, the Basifs counseled that all Centauri should accept less. It was better that way.

The Basifs were content that the "Great Old Days" (gods how they hated the implied capital letters in that phrase), were merely a stepping stone in the Republic's evolution rather than its culmination. With the loss of awe came tolerance; with the loss of eminence came disdain. They saw the smiles of other races across the treaty or trading table, but did not see the pity, or even contempt behind those smiles. They were content to think and believe wholeheartedly that all others thought like them, that the Vorchans and the Narn, the Dilgar and all others like them were the aberration rather than the norm. They honestly believed that talk, and negotiation, and acquiescence could solve any situation because everyone deep inside thought as the Basifs did. With the rise of Emperor Turhan they saw in one swoop this new type of peace would be achieved in their lifetime. They felt that even with the loss of the likes at Quadrant 17, if they just talked to the Narn, gave them some concessions, stood down more of the military near the neutral border, the so-called Buffer Zone, that the Narn would come around. In a perfect universe they would be right. But, this is not a perfect universe. One simple action by one man would help to shatter these ideas, and then sweep the wreckage thereof into the sea.

The man in question strode into the Centaurum, a passel of his supporters in tow behind. Lord Jentavus Roglark paused before the font, touching some of the sacred water to his lips. Always a traditionalist, he would have no more thought about speaking here without purifying his lips than he would have thought to come without his hair in its proper formal fashion. When campaigning he kept it folded up so to better fit under his command helm, but here on Centauri Prime it was furled it is antique and traditional glory. Most in the Centaurum had begun of late to keep their hair more trim, reflecting the Emperor's taste, but not so Lord Roglark. As a Vorchan of the first rank he felt to not adhere to what made the Centauri great was anathema, even if it was something as simple as hair. He was clothed from boot to neck in black, his vow to only wear black in public until the Buffer Zone was returned to Centauri rule was still in effect. Wearing the longer, older-style cape for formal occasions was also a penchant of his. A large number of Lord Roglark's counterparts had returned to the same style, much to the consternation of the Basifs in the room.

A rising star in the Vorchan faction, Lord Roglark was the military governor of Quadrant 1, right on the edge of the demilitarized Buffer Zone. He had some sort of connections as several other Houses had been passed over to give this Lord Roglark his appointment.

The Emperor entered, accompanied by his retinue of guards and his Imperial Tetrapathy, his four telepathic women. In the Centaurum he was accorded the deepest respect, but not the absolute devotion shown to him outside this chamber's hallowed walls. Business could begin now that the Emperor had arrived. The chamber grew silent as the Speaker of the Centaurum strode forth.

Striking his long stave on the floor, the Speaker called the Centaurum to order. All rose for the traditional benediction of the Great Maker and the other gods. He cast his aged glance around the hall, knowing that today's discussion was likely to be aggressive. Raising his voice he declared **"The opening topic under discussion this day is the events of Quadrant 17 and the Buffer Zone!"**

The perfect acoustics of the ancient chamber carried his voice to the upper gallery of the sixth tier. All waited a moment, glancing at Lord Tesu's empty seat. Governor of Quadrant 17, Lord Tesu was still conducting the battle against the Narn and Drazi at the Heptharg system. He had pled that his duties with his fleet forbade him from coming and the Emperor had not gainsaid him on that fact. He had clients who might plead his case should the need arise. While some would see only Lord Tesu's devotion to duty that drove him to be absent, many more saw the cowardice behind the veneer of his attention to duty.

Lord Roglark stood from his second-tier seat, signaling he wished to speak. The Speaker hesitated, quickly glancing at the Emperor for guidance (he was the Emperor's man). A scarcely perceptible nod from Emperor Turhan and the Speaker said, **"The Centaurum recognizes Lord Jentavus Roglark!"**

Lord Roglark strode to the center of the floor. Gathering his cape about him he looked every inch the throwback the Basifs thought him to be: long caped, waistcoat in addition to overcoat, the antique silver braid, the fanned out crown of hair, the white gloves, just like a vision of times past. He knew of their contempt for him, and it mattered not. He did not hate them but merely felt their time was over, and his was returning, as it should. He would grind them to dust and move onward to his enemies outside the Republic. He gazed momentarily at his brethren in the Centaurum, ally, enemy, and undecided as well. It was the last quiet before the storm.

Inhaling deeply he intoned the ancient phrase, **"I come to speak about the Republic."**

The Centaurum as a body answered **"We hear!"**

He completed his part of the ritual **"I come to speak for the good of the Republic**."

The Centaurum completed their part **"We hear!"**

Lord Roglark began, **"Conscript Fathers! I have come today to discuss the debacle of Quadrant 17! I have come to speak of the sins of Lord Tesu and by extension the** **sins of all within this hallowed room!"** A few started at the inclusion with Lord Tesu, wondering in what way they were culpable. Some mused perhaps they were. Most of the Basif faction ignored Lord Roglark, busy preparing their own agendas. Almost as a whole the Basifs thought that as soon as this pompous windbag that looked like a relic from the Great Old Days (gods what a phrase) was finished, they would get on with the _**real **_business of the Republic.

Lord Roglark paused to let his comment sink in. He noticed the barely concealed disdain of most of the Basif faction and mused "_Fools. Your contempt for your enemy has blinded you, and like your namesake, your poison has only given me strength. Today your contempt will cost you dearly."_

Lord Roglark continued, **"Yes sins! Do I shock you Fathers?"** Some indeed seemed shocked, others merely uncomfortable. **"Though how can I call us Fathers when so many of our children have been left to the slaughter?" ** Lord Roglark paused. Many seemed to be looking away, either in guilt or indifference. He raised his voice to a battlefield shout, **"SLAUGHTER!"** That snapped their heads around. **"Indeed that is what it was! Nearly a quarter of a million dead, an entire shipyard destroyed, a major colony wrecked, the entire garrison slain to the last man, all ships destroyed with all hands, and the Imperial Guard reserve annihilated, including the **_**Alecto's Pride**_**!"**

Many looked pained at that barb, especially the Vorchans. The Basifs shook their heads thinking, "_Yes the loss of life was regrettable,"_ but with such provocative examples of old might like the battleship _Alecto's Pride _they were less magnanimous. Better all such things were swept away. But what the Basifs, serene in their belief that most others thought their way, missed completely was that a large number of the more moderate members of the Centaurum winced right along with the Vorchans. Even the moderates were genuinely pained to see such a potent symbol of the Republic brought low. Never in their entire history had the Centauri Republic lost an _Octurion_-class battleship. A shift, so subtle it went unnoticed by many, washed over the room. It was like the slight chill before Mother Death enfolds you with her wings and whispers in your ear. Many of the moderate lords felt their pride of nation reawaken, their resolve solidify. Of all the Basif faction only two were aware of a shift in the mood of the room: the Speaker, and Emperor Turhan.

Of the Vorchans, many felt their pulse quicken. They saw their fellow members tightly grin, felt the new wind about to blow. They saw prominent moderates like Lord Harisha, Lord Molari, and Lord Hirso sit up straight, eyes focused in rapt attention to Lord Roglark in the center of the floor. Many minor House lords were sitting forward as if straining to hear every word despite the acoustics of the hall. Even Roglark's biggest detractor in the Vorchan faction, Lord Vezini, was sitting straighter. While the Speaker felt a fine mist of sweat break out over his brow, the Emperor looked on stoically, wishing once again that the throne had not come to him.

Lord Roglark, feeling his star begin to rise thundered on, **"Lord Tesu was a man in over his head, and that is the last mitigating thing I will say about him. He was a political man in charge of a vital military colony, closest to our old enemies the Narn, and our new ones the Drazi. He continuously chose to ignore warnings of a strike in the making, and allowed himself to be tied down in a battle of attrition while his imperial seat was razed to the ground! And the only consolation"**, he paused to inhale, **"The only consolation we have is that the surprise relief led by Commodore Kahan's squadron was destroyed to the VERY LAST MAN!** **They were destroyed defending what was Lord Tesu's charge, and in fact they prevented the destruction from being much worse!"** Lord Roglark turned and bowed deeply to the silent Admiral Lord Catus, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Guard, and his Patru. In Centauri society 'Patru' was a diminutive for uncle, but was only applied to a friend of the family rather than by blood. Admiral Lord Catus had been a good friend of Lord Roglark's father Quillan. **"Admiral Lord Catus, I and the entire Centaurum thank you for the Imperial Guard's dedication and service to the Republic"**. A few murmurs of assent came from the Centaurum. Admiral Lord Catus inclined his head in acceptance of the thanks as Lord Roglark continued,** "Had the Commodore not arrived when he did, and selflessly sacrifice his ships and crew, the entirety of Quadrant 17 may have been threatened. The Immolan District may have been assaulted as well. He and his Guardsmen's willingness to die for our Republic while defending her citizens from this… this… "** Lord Roglark sputtered in his swelling rage, hunting for a proper epithet for Lord Tesu, "**This** **PIMMEL'S** **incompetence is beyond my ability to properly honor".** There was a slight gasp at the word 'pimmel', it being a very vulgar word used to denote a male sexual organ that was of insufficient length or girth to do its job properly. Sometimes it was even used to refer to a fellow presented with the Sixth Level yet has no idea what to do with it.

At that shouted vulgarity (gutter language was rarely heard in the august Centaurum hall) the Basifs finally began to take notice. They looked around and saw contempt looking at them from all sides. From Vorchans this was common, but many of the moderate lords wore the same expression. Belatedly they remembered that they had blocked a Vorchan being named Governor of Quadrant 17 last year, settling instead on Lord Tesu. At the time the decision to have _anyone _other than a Vorchan in Quadrant 17 was merely another play in the infinite struggle of politics. But with Lord Tesu's epic blunder, that decision had grown into a hobgoblin on hideously long legs that had abruptly walked into the room, gibbering and defecating the entire way.

The Speaker rose from his chair, **"Lord Roglark, one more outburst of vulgarity like that…"**

Lord Roglark held up his hand, **"Speaker, your Majesty, Conscript Fathers, I beg your forgiveness for my rude tongue. I was a soldier long before I sat in my father's place here."** A slight chuckle rolled about the chamber. Many even among the moderates had also served and knew the language of the barracks. Lord Roglark gave a small smile and bowed his head slightly, looking for all the world like a small boy with his hand in the cookie jar. A moment later his face hardened and he spoke again, **"But while you may forgive me Fathers, Lord Tesu's incompetence cannot be forgiven. Nor can those that put him in his current position last year. If memory serves,"** he turned and casually indicated the Emperor, **"His Majesty had no opinion on the matter."** It was impossible to tell if there was a rebuke in his voice for the Emperor. Lord Roglark turned back to the Centaurum, **"My good friend Lord Brazita was suggested for the post. A proven warrior beyond reproach, and a good hand at other administrative skills, well suited for a post such as Quadrant 17".** His brow grew darker as he leveled a finger at the sitting Centaurum, **"Yet some within this body saw fit to put their own petty agendas before the safety of the Republic! Certain members of this body blocked Lord Brazita. You know who you are, and rest assured so do the rest of us!"**

The Basifs were in total disarray. Where had this come from? Lord Roglark had helped to derail many Basif agendas in the past, but by and large Lord Refa or Lord Vezini were the Vorchan mouthpiece. This thrice-damned second-tier Roglark was undoing years of work every moment he continued. The Basifs floundered, their weapons of choice ineffectual in the face of a determined predator. They had blocked Refa many times, his naked ambition to ascend to the White so obvious. But this was an unexpected attack. Not one Basif rose to Lord Tesu's defense, not wanting to hitch themselves to such a dying horse, but one of Lord Tesu's clients, a Minor Lord Banadine began to rise, saying, **"Now see here Roglark…"**

Lord Roglark saw Lord Banadine rise, and raised his hands in a placating gesture, **"Lord Banadine please. I know you are duty bound to defend your patron. Of all that I know of you, you have given good service to your Lord in all things. Would that you served someone else that better rewarded such loyalty."** Lord Banadine sat back deflated. Lord Roglark given him the highest compliment a patron could give: he had been known, even by one of his Lord's enemies, to give good service. Yet the subtext of the compliment was clear: leave Tesu and you _will _be rewarded for such good service…by Lord Roglark. Banadine looked contemptuously at Tesu's other two clients: Rayann and Jindalo, neither having come to Lord Tesu's aid. Both were trying hard not to be seen. Just as Lord Tesu was nowhere to be seen.

Lord Roglark continued, **"I digress Fathers. Lord Tesu's guilt in dereliction of duty is self-evident: Quadrant 17 is utterly destroyed."** Lord Roglark sadly shook his head, the fan of hair rippling as if a breeze entered the room. When he looked up his visage was grim and his eyes glittering, **"And while the **_**pretend**_** soldier was off playing with the simple and inane Drazi, a **_**real**_** soldier along with all of the other brave forlorn defenders of Lord Tesu's demented policies gave their lives for the Republic!"** He paused as if caught with a momentary thought, **"Wait, I am wrong. Not all of the defenders of Lord Tesu's policies died at Quadrant 17. Many of them still live, right here in this very room! Where are the **_**brave**_** men who allowed Lord Tesu to assume the governorship?"** Lord Roglark's sarcasm literally dripped off his pointed incisors, **"Who voted to let him have his fun? Where are you Conscript Fathers? Have you deserted your Lord Tesu, much like you have deserted our Republic? Shall I have the recorder read out your names for all to see?"** Many of the Basifs actually began to tremble. While in the midst of the ruination of their long fought plans, they realized they had totally misjudged the pulse of the Centaurum and by extension the Republic. This throwback idiot was going to have his way today, and his retarded ilk along with him.

"**Ah,"** Lord Roglark sighed, **"there is no need to read them out loud. You know who you are."** He paused as if musing before speaking again, **"We **_**ALL**_** know who you are!"**

The Speaker looked helplessly at the Emperor. He knew what would happen next. Emperor Turhan blinked slowly and imperceptibly shook his head. The Speaker closed his eyes, fighting back tears. Lord Tesu was a relative by marriage, and what was about to happen...

Lord Roglark did not disappoint them, **"I call for Lord Tesu to be proscribed! All of his property and assets should be seized by the Republic and put forth for the rebuilding of Quadrant 17, and the well being of the widows and orphans of his murdered soldiers!"** More than half the Centaurum came to their feet in a roar, yelling for Tesu's blood, some calling for his execution, removal of his House and other older more painful punishments for betraying the Republic.

Lord Roglark swept back his cape while raising his hands over his head, **"There can be only one redress to this vomitous shame, this redolent pile of excrement that has been placed at our door! I call for an immediate declaration of war upon the Narn Regime and their barbaric allies the Drazi Freehold!"** Cheering drowned out the cries of regret among the Basif, **"They must pay for slipping in the door and burning our house, slaying our children!"** Another deafening roar, **"We must show them why you do not make war with the Centauri! They must be made to answer for their crimes down to the last generation!"** Most of the Centaurum was on its feet, beating the long tables in front of them and chanting **"WAR! WAR! WAR!"**

The Speaker began pounding his stave on the floor, trying to call the Centaurum to order, but that heavy chant made his efforts futile. To Emperor Turhan that chanting and pounding of fists sounded like the march of boots from his short time in the military. They sounded much the same to Lord Roglark.

Lord Roglark turned away from the Centaurum, swinging his cape back around his body. As he declared the motion for war his vote was already counted. He heard the Speaker vainly shouting for order amid the chaos of the war-chant. Lord Roglark's clients were already up and calling for a vote amid the din, some one or two Basifs trying to shout it down, but they were lost in the cacophony. Many never even raised their voice, stunned into silence by their defeat. As Lord Roglark turned to leave, he caught the Emperor's eye staring at him. Though his visage was complacent, Roglark could see the burning behind the mask. "_So_," he thought, "_our Emperor was going to let this outrage go unpunished, this defeat un-avenged._ _Had I not spoken, we would have scuttled off to lick our wounds and lament 'Why oh why can't the Narn just love us?_?' _A little secret Emperor Basif: they will __**NEVER**__ love us! It is them or us. And if I have to pick up our banner and shout, "Follow me!" because you can't, if I must charge and be our champion, then so be it…_ Lord Roglark bowed to the Emperor as deeply as custom and courtesy demanded, but no more. He then turned and left the hall.

8


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

October 12, 2241: Centauri Imperial Palace, Centauri Prime

The Centauri Imperial Palace is often considered the best in Centauri architecture, landscaping, and ornamentation. The soaring walls of formian stone, once thought to be the hardest substance in the known galaxy, glisten either by sun or moonlight. The gracefully arched windows of hand-cut and polished rock crystal sparkle with a life all their own. The grounds and gardens have been tended and manicured by the finest horticulturists and arborists for over ten centuries. Countless plants, flowers, shrubs, and trees, both native and others gathered from over a hundred worlds grace the walkways of meticulously placed stone. Within the groves are the rare _orez'epau,_ from distant crystalline Minbar, that 'sings' when the bloom is tapped due to the high crystal content of the plant. Rarest of flowers from Terra is the _kadapul_ that only blooms at midnight and dies with every dawn. In one secluded niche is a single bush, perhaps the only left in the galaxy, of _stalimna_, whose flower legend says was a favorite of Warmaster Jha'dur from dead burned Omelos.

The glorious flowers, the manicured lawns, the exquisite stonework, none of these could ease the mind of the man walking those paths. Emperor Turhan of the Centauri Republic was troubled. The debacle (some were calling it a massacre) at Quadrant 17 had blossomed into a large more sinister bloom. The call for war, not pretend war but _actual_ war was now ringing across the Republic. One simple speech by a second-tier noble had made all the difference. And now the war Emperor Turhan had hoped to avoid was on his doorstep, much like the man himself, Lord Jentavus Roglark.

Lord Roglark strode across the open courtyard, glancing to the right only once as the colored lights inside the reflecting pool fountains changed colors again, this time to the softer pale blue. This momentary distraction brought Lord Roglark out of his musing and allowed him to hear his footfalls echo off the front of the palace. He was dressed in his uniform of Governor and Admiral of Quadrant 1, complete with his top boots that were adorned with the ankle strap and heel irons. The traditional heel irons struck the occasional spark from the stone walkway. Lord Roglark smiled to himself at the sound of his footfalls. Only officers that had been in command of a capital ship victorious in combat were permitted to wear heel irons. The heel irons were made from small pieces of the ship's armor recovered from either the combat zone or during repairs. It was not uncommon to have new heel irons made from the flagship once flag rank had been attained (though Lord Roglark kept his very first ones for good luck). These current ones were made from the armor of _Terhali's Satisfaction_, the flagship of Quadrant 1 and House Roglark. Though the tradition was fading, Lord Roglark cherished his; they were a mark of his accomplishments just as much as the medals that jingled on his chest, his admiral's epaulettes, and his Imperial Governor's sash.

Lord Roglark proceeded up the stairs while glancing at the sun to confirm he was precisely on time for his private audience with Emperor Turhan. Though tardiness became fashionable once a Centauri male attained a certain station, Lord Roglark believed a military commander and regional governor was _never_ late when called upon by the Emperor.

At the double doors two Imperial Guardsmen came to attention. Heels clicking together, they saluted him as he approached. They crossed their right fist over and struck the opposite shoulder. Had they been armed with shoulder arms rather than just their short swords, they would have presented arms and crossed the fist over the rifle. Lord Roglark passed between them gravely returning their salute. The doors opened silently and he and stepped into the softly lit foyer.

Silent servants closed the doors behind him. As Lord Roglark's eyes adjusted to the change from the bright daylight to the more subdued lighting in the Palace, he snorted softly and shook his head thinking, _"In times of war those Guardsmen should be armed with more than swords. Ion rifles or even the bulky, ancient, yet highly lethal matter guns of Old Emperor Peraini's time._"

A Chamberlain rushed in from an adjoining room. He paused to straighten his jacket over his considerable paunch and brush food crumbs from his neck-cloth. His dignity regained, though his flushed face and slight sheen of sweat on his brow detracted from it somewhat, he entered the foyer.

**"Greetings Lord Roglark,"** he said while bowing deeply from the waist, **"Our Emperor bids you welcome to his home".**

Lord Roglark looked him over, calling on his near photographic memory to place a name to the chubby, florid face and the considerable paunch. **"Thank-you Chamberlain Compolo"**, Lord Roglark replied while returning his bow with a short bob of the head. Allowing the smallest amount of sarcasm to slip into his words he asked, **"I hope my arrival did not discommode you too much"?**

Compolo smiled indulgently, **"Of course not my Lord. I simply assumed** **since your audience was for midday you would…um…uh…well,"** he stammered looking nonplussed. He abruptly brightened saying **"Well and here you are. Precisely at midday!"**

Lord Roglark's eyes narrowed as he allowed steel into his voice, **"The Republic is at war with the Narn and Drazi. Time is precious both for the Emperor and myself. I will not waste it celebrating my rank and station."**

If anything Compolo's smile grew wider, his manner obsequious, **"Most** **definitely not my Lord. I shall conduct you to our Emperor immediately".** Chamberlain Compolo bowed from the waist again. Lord Roglark saw that most of his impressive court-arrayed hair was transplanted. Compolo led Lord Roglark through a doorway down a long hall that was softly lit with candles. Lord Roglark sniffed and caught the scent of terien wax. _"Wholly appropriate…"_ he thought. Terien wax was normally used in temples and the houses of the wealthy as it gave off no smoke, no harsh fumes and burned more than ten times longer than conventional wax. Lord Roglark drank in the architecture, furnishings and decorations_. "A veritable panoply for the eyes to caress,"_ he thought.

Lord Roglark had only been in the palace twice before. Most recently was eleven years ago to renew his family's fealty when Lord Turhan became Emperor Turhan. The previous time was as a very young man, little more than a boy really. His father, Lord Quillan Roglark, had presented him to Old Emperor Peraini as his rightful heir as was the tradition. Though it was often a mere formality, all Centauri Emperors had the final say on who was heir to a particular family. Lord Roglark remembered his father's strong hand on his back, guiding him through the network of hallways. Leading him down that long purple carpet bordered in blue to the throne room, the very same purple carpet on which he now walked. Lord Roglark had been drilled and tutored for hours on how to act in front of the Old Emperor, what to say, what to do, and more importantly what not to say or do.

As a boy Lord Roglark had read much Centauri history (his father required a proper appreciation of history), and had read of mad Emperors killing anyone who displeased him. These Emperors sometimes engineered elaborate deaths for simple improper forms of etiquette. Lord Roglark believed, in his boyish way, that he would make some gaffe and be executed by grim-faced Imperial Guardsmen on the spot. Even though he was desperately afraid of meeting the Old Emperor, his father had demanded that he go. Inevitably Lord Roglark had to marshal his courage and meet Old Emperor Peraini.

In the end, he needn't have worried. Somehow his father knew the Old Emperor, and in fact they seemed friends of a sort. The Old Emperor made a show of inspecting his uniform, asking after his mother and brother, even calling him by his birth name, Jentavus. At the time the Old Emperor seemed a jolly old man, perhaps a bit silly. It was years later that Lord Roglark understood: the mild madness that haunted Old Emperor Peraini's later years was on display. Though that madness, and the somehow friendship of the Old Emperor, would benefit House Roglark, it also hindered with the Old Emperor's successor, Emperor Turhan.

Abruptly Chamberlain Compolo turned off down a side hallway. Lord Roglark stopped short, his musing on the past immediately halted. Though he hadn't been in the palace in eleven years his amazing memory did not fail him. He loudly cleared his throat to halt Compolo and said," **The throne room is this** **way,"** while motioning to the right.

Chamberlain Compolo stopped, turning about with a smug look, **"Of course my Lord".**

After waiting a moment for Compolo to speak further, Lord Roglark broke the silence, **"Then why are you going that way?"**

** "Why this way lies the Gantz Room of course, my Lord,"** Compolo replied.

Lord Roglark's eyebrows went up. **"And…"**

** "And the Gantz Room adjoins the garden at the **_**Exotics**_** end," **Compolo said with a slightly pitying smile.

Lord Roglark would have liked nothing more than to smack the smile off of Chamberlain Complo's face. He mastered the impulse saying, **"The Emperor wishes a private audience away from the throne room? In the private wing? "**

Chamberlain Compolo said **"Of course my Lord."** Compolo's smile changed to a wide-eyed innocent look. **"Was it not self-evident?"** he asked.

Lord Roglark was about to retort hotly when it clicked. He recognized a play to make him off balance when he saw one, like banter during a duel. Either Chamberlain Compolo was as much of an ass as he seemed, or he was under orders to be this way. Lord Roglark suspected it was a bit of both, but he recognized a test when he saw it. Compolo's manner and attitude were designed to keep him off balance.

Lord Roglark smiled broadly showing all of his teeth. **"Excellent! I have never seen the private wing of the palace. Lead on Chamberlain Compolo." **

Compolo deflated somewhat at seeing his ruse fail to perturb Lord Roglark. He turned and did indeed lead onward. Lord Roglark took note of his surroundings as he followed. He noticed the change in decoration and furniture as the more public area of the palace was left behind. The styles became older and more chaotic as various periods blended. Even the color of the carpet had changed from the lighter purple bordered in blue to an almost wine-colored crimson. Lord Roglark had a moment of apprehension that he quickly quashed. The 'crimson carpet' had a sinister reputation in Centauri history. Almost the entire private wing of the palace had the same crimson carpet. Often Emperors and nobles past would conduct private audiences and intrigues in these areas. Sometimes carefully assassinating rivals or enemies in the catacomb-like halls and rooms. Legend had it that the crimson carpet had been installed so the bloodstains would not show on the floor. This had given rise to the saying 'c_ommanded to stand upon the carpet'_ as a euphemism for being slain by enemies. Lord Roglark remembered the Centauri's delight in discovering their good friends from Terra had a similar saying _'to be called on the carpet'_ though the Terran meaning was somewhat different than the Centauri.

Chamberlain Compolo stopped in front of an ornate door. Picked out in gilt with a gold handle, it looked much the same as any one of a dozen doors Lord Roglark had passed on his journey to the Emperor's inner sanctum. **"The** **Emperor is within my Lord,"** Compolo said, stepping aside and motioning with his hands for Lord Roglark to enter. Lord Roglark took a moment to make sure his uniform and hair were in proper order. He recalled his boyhood lessons on how to properly honor the Emperor of the Centauri Republic. He then turned the handle, opened the door, and walked into the room beyond.

Inside it was much like a sitting room. Several plush chairs and small tables dotted the room while short couches lined two walls. A wall of windows was opposite the door causing Lord Roglark to squint at the abrupt change in illumination from the dimly lit halls. "_Well,"_ Lord Roglark thought, _"__**here**__ are the_ _armed Imperial Guardsmen_". Two Guardsmen stood within the room, armed with their traditional short swords and ion rifles. At Lord Roglark's entrance, they came to attention and saluted while clicking their heels together. Lord Roglark acknowledged and returned their salute. The Emperor was not present in this room, yet one of the Imperial Tetrapathy (the Emperor's four telepathic women) was standing in front of a chair near the exit to the garden. Though she seemed poised, Lord Roglark glanced at the chair behind her and realized she must have just stood as he walked into the room. _"She must have sensed me_ _beyond the door."_ Years of training slipped into place as he mentally began to recite a short piece of poetry (a ditty really). It was designed to put up a block to telepathy. All Centauri nobles practiced such things. Though it would not stop a determined scan, it did tend to protect against surface scans or a telepath picking up on easily projected thoughts.

She seemed to smile slightly. "_Such green eyes,_" he thought, _"much like my first wife in the blush of womanhood…"_ She caught his glance, inhaled deeply and truly smiled. Lord Roglark was briefly distracted by the rise and fall of her bosom. _"She really is quite attractive. Does the Emperor…value such beauty?"_ Lord Roglark's mind drifted into the ramifications of that thought, then caught himself. _"What am I thinking? I am in the lion's den and here I am thinking of_ this _girl and what I would like to…"_ Then he realized: while the repetition exercise would block a surface scan, or mask thoughts, it offered no protection from implanted suggestions. _"Just another tripwire to distract or test me. Well, I know how to fix this…"_ He scowled while dredging up a horrific memory from his early military service: the after-effects of some Narn terrorists and a dirty bomb.

The telepath's face blanched as her gaze fell away from him. Lord Roglark crossed his arms and said, "**Enough of this. I am commanded here to see the Emperor. Please dear lady, do not waste anymore of his time or mine."** He paused as if in thought and said, **"Or perhaps you would like to see my thoughts again. Have you ever seen what an oxygen fire in zero gravity looks like? And what it can do to a man?" **

She drew back from the door, extending a hand in motion toward it while saying,** "The Emperor awaits you in the garden, Lord Roglark."** As Lord Roglark passed her she seemed plainer than at first, not as ripe or lush. All thoughts of lust for her were gone. He noticed here eyes were more brown now as well _"Ah, it was_ _just glamour…"_ he thought. He swept past her and stepped back out into the sunlight.

Emperor Turhan was standing before a small flowering shrub, his back to Lord Roglark. Two more Imperial Guardsmen could be seen nearby. As was proper, Guardsmen in the presence of the Emperor did not salute. Though Lord Roglark was not required to, he saluted them. He came to attention a respectful distance from Emperor Turhan, clicking his heels and bowing deeply from the waist, though no more than was required. He said **"Your Majesty, I have come as commanded,".** He continued to maintain the bow as etiquette required the Emperor to give him leave to rise.

Emperor Turhan turned, motioning with his hand for Lord Roglark to rise. Turhan looked at the man as he straightened and again wondered how best to handle him. Emperor Turhan had already received the reports from one of his female telepaths, Elena. Lord Roglark had shown self-control with the insulting and pompous Chamberlain Compolo, and effectively thought on his feet with his telepath Elena. The tests proved that Lord Roglark's mental skills were as impressive as his purported memory. The rumors of his exceptional memory had been proven as well. Lord Roglark had recognized the proper way to the throne room even though Compolo had been given instructions to take a circuitous route before turning off to the private wing.

_"Decisiveness"_ the thought floated into Turhan's head from both Elena and Ardrella, another member of the quartet of female telepaths. _"Strength. Honesty. He will respect you and thus do your bidding with less likelihood of disobedience," _they counseled. Emperor Turhan had given no sign that he was receiving suggestions via telepathy. He merely appeared to be gathering his thoughts.

The telepathic conversation had taken only a moment. Emperor Turhan took a deep breath and turned to fully face Lord Roglark. **"On time Lord Roglark. Good, we shall need such precision in the coming days."** Turhan paused, then turned towards the garden again, **"Walk with me,"** he commanded, and began to walk with his hands clasped behind his back.

Lord Roglark fell into step behind and slightly to Turhan's right as the Emperor began to speak, **"Lord Jentavus Roglark, I command you to begin the prosecution of this war. I am informed by Vice Admiral Lord Catus, your Patru, that you have submitted an excellent plan for a strike against the Narn. This is so?" **

**"It is your Majesty. Does your Majesty wish the details or perhaps a summary?"** Lord Roglark replied.

**"No I do not,"** the Emperor said. **"The Vice Admiral has agreed to it, and speaks of it in glowing terms. He has given your plan his strongest recommendation. He has also advised adding some Imperial Guard forces to your strike fleet."**

Lord Roglark wasn't sure if the last was a statement or a question, **"Yes your Majesty."**

Turhan continued, **"I have allowed these forces released for your use."**

Lord Roglark prevented the elation he felt from showing on his face. He bowed again from the waist while saying, **"Thank-you your Majesty. Your largesse has increased the chances of the attack succeeding."**

Emperor Turhan stopped and turned to face Lord Roglark, **"Not guaranteed?"**

Lord Roglark straightened and began quoting an axiom taught at the Imperial War College, but also learned by experience, **"In war there is only one guarantee your Majesty". **Lord Roglark waited to see if the Emperor would finish the axiom. Emperor Turhan stared at him impassively. He realized that the Emperor actually might not know the phrase. _"And he leads us in this_ _war…"_he thought while mentally shaking his head. Lord Roglark continued, **"The only guarantee is that men will die, your Majesty."**

_**"**__Yes,"_ thought Turhan, _"that men will die."_ Turhan regarded Lord Roglark for a moment as they stood facing each other. He noted in the sunlight that Lord Roglark's uniform was not the typical deep blue of the Navy, but black. _"Such devotion,"_ he thought as he remembered Lord Roglark's vow to only wear black publicly until the Buffer Zone was returned to the Republic. _"Such devotion to an outdated_ _idea,"_ he thought while mentally shaking his head. _"Would that I could convince him to my way of thinking. But then he would not be in the proper place for things to come. "_

**"Lord Roglark,"** Turhan said then paused. **"I have only one thing to add to your attack plans."**

Inwardly Lord Roglark groaned. Emperor Turhan was not a military man. His service had been as short as possible for a future Emperor. Steeling himself for the worst he said, **"I am yours to command your Majesty." **Lord Roglark even went so far as to make a leap toward diplomacy in the hopes of mitigating any damage to his battle plans and objectives by saying **"In what way may I improve my plan to meet your Majesty's wishes?"**

**"Only in one way Lord Roglark. I noticed several of House Roglark's capital ships detailed for this strike carry mass drivers,"** Turhan said with the slightest note of disapproval.

Lord Roglark clamped his jaw shut at the Emperor's tone. _"The same old argument over using mass drivers. You are Basif to the core Turhan,"_ Lord Roglark thought. **"All of House Roglark's battlecruisers field mass drivers your Majesty,"** he replied.

**"And your **_**Octurion-**_**class flagship,"** Turhan said, **"What is its name?"**

**"She is** _**Terhali's Satisfaction**_** your Majesty,"** Lord Roglark said, slightly stressing the 'she'. **"And yes she carries mass drivers as well. I have found they are the quickest way to reduce bases or other stationary military sites." **

** "I want you to be precise with your mass driver fire Lord Roglark**," Emperor Turhan said. **"Surgical hits against military targets."**

Lord Roglark wondered for perhaps the thousandth time why those in power today did not understand warfare. _"Surgical hits?" _he thought. _"There are no such things. I suppose if this were Earth Force he would tell me to use the 'gentle'_ _nuclear missiles._ **"I will be as precise as I can your Majesty. Only targets of military value" **he replied.

Even with his limited military experience Emperor Turhan knew what 'targets of military value' meant. He briefly considered placing a formal ban on destroying Narn infrastructure, but then decided against it. It would be less likely that there would be 'accidental' civilian casualties if Turhan gave no formal ban. He would just have to trust Lord Roglark not to get too bloodthirsty.

The Emperor has stopped at a small niche in the palace wall that contained another flowering bush, this one with dark red blooms. He kept his back to Lord Roglark as he said, **"Our audience is finished Lord Jentavus Roglark.** **You are dismissed."** He paused then continued, **"You are to report directly to** **Vice Admiral Catus once you leave the palace."** When Lord Roglark made no sound, Emperor Turhan added, **"That is all. Perhaps we shall meet again upon your return." **

Though the Emperor could not see, Lord Roglark appropriately bowed from the waist saying, **"Thank-you your Majesty." ** He backed up the traditionally required three steps. As the Emperor had not chosen to face him, Lord Roglark was free to straighten and turn about as he left. If the Emperor was facing you, it could be a death sentence to show him your back intentionally. His fleet and the Narn base at Kotac waited. But first he must have his meeting with Vice Admiral Lord Catus, his Patru.

Emperor Turhan heard Lord Roglark leave. For a brief moment he was confused at the ringing steps as Lord Roglark crossed a stone walkway, then remembered that he was probably wearing the traditional heel irons on his boots. After that distraction he returned to contemplating the plant in the garden niche. This _stalimna_ plant had been a gift of one of the past Dilgar emperors. Their emperor was only a figurehead, so it was really a gift from the Warmasters that governed Omelos, now dead burned Omelos. There were no more Warmasters. The _stalimna _was unique in that after a year, soil from Omelos had to be ferried to Centauri Prime or the plant would wither. Whatever was in the native soil had never been replicated. For many years, Dilgar ships had brought the soil so the plant would continue to thrive. Now, at great cost, Centauri ships had to make the long trek to dead Omelos and procure the soil themselves. The yearly ship was due to leave this very day.

And why did they do this: because the plant had been here for so long it was now tradition that the plant should continue to be here. It had thrived under emperors past and thus no one questioned that it should always be here. _"How much we do because it is tradition, or expected, or simply because we cannot bear to think that what was yesterday may not be for today."_

Emperor Turhan at last allowed the heavy sigh that had been building all morning to escape his chest. He spoke to another that was in the garden, **"Lady Morella, have I done the proper thing? Is you vision secure?"**

The Lady Morellawalked out of the foliage. She was the Emperor's third wife, but she was more than that. The Lady Morella was a prophetess, a skilled and powerful seer. Her ability to foretell the future was not widely known, even among the court. **"Yes my husband, you have done the proper thing. This Lord Roglark will be successful but he will in no way threaten you. He will pick up the colors and shout '**_**Follow me!'**_** and they will." **She paused and sighed**, "But in no way does he see himself or his sons wearing the White. By allowing him to charge forth, you will prevent others from taking the glory he will earn and use it against you. Men like Refa and Vezini may try to use this Lord Roglark, but they will not like what results. He is his own man, and loyal to the Republic." **She paused before adding, **"Though perhaps not to you personally."**

Turhan digested this, then asked, **"Has your vision of his death changed because of what I did here my Queen?"**

She closed here eyes, casting about with her gift. **"No, I still see him on the bridge of some vessel. The fires burn all around, there are men lying dead on the deck. He has given some dire command, and is praying it will be successful. He closes his eyes as a great brightness surrounds him... and then he is gone".**

15


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

October 18, 2241: _Terhali's Satisfaction_, House Roglark's flagship

The _Octurion_-class battleship is the largest ship currently in service with the Centauri Navy. In any battle where they participate, they stand as mobile fortresses dealing fire and death in all directions. Such an elegant engine of destruction has not been seen since the last of the Dilgar _Mishakur_-class dreadnoughts was destroyed at Omelos. With the exception of the largest Minbari or Hyach vessels, no ships in possession of the younger races can stand against them in pitched battle. With the recent exception of _Alecto's Pride_, none have ever been lost in war (though to be fair, _Alecto's Pride_ was outnumbered by more than four-to-one). There are less than forty in the fleet, most with the Imperial Guard. Twelve are owned by House fleets, though none have been purchased. Only as a gift from the Emperor himself can a House field an _Octurion._ House Trefara has _Shalimar's Desire_, House Jarno has _Maera's Hunger_, and House Roglark has _Terhali's Satisfaction._

Lord Jentavus Roglark stood on the bridge of _Terhali's Satisfaction_ gazing at the ever-changing scene of hyperspace. Though many found the miasma of swirling red and black disconcerting, Lord Roglark had always been fascinated by it. Having been in hyperspace quite frequently, he still never found it was the same twice. Like the supposed Ancient Gods of the Dilgar, it constantly remade itself again and again depending upon who viewed it.

Booted footsteps sounded behind him as one of the crew approached. The tell-tale ring of iron heels told him who it was. A slight clearing of the throat made Lord Roglark aware that his attention was being asked. Lord Roglark smiled as he turned saying, **"Yes Captain?**"

The man standing behind Lord Roglark was Captain Classion. He was Lord Roglark's Flag Captain and the nominal commander of _Terhali's_ _Satisfaction._ Just a bit shorter and younger than Lord Roglark, he had served in the House Fleet all of his adult life. **"My Lord,"** Classion said, **"you ordered me to make you aware just before we reached the Kotac System".**

"**Thank-you Captain," **Lord Roglark replied. **"Contact all squadrons an****d ****have them launch the fighters. I want them jumping in together rather than launching in penny-packets once we arrive".**

This was sound tactical doctrine, **"Yes my Lord. Which squadron shall they form up on before jump?"**

Lord Roglark thought for a moment then answered, **"Groups C and D.** **They will jump in with the **_**Vorchan**_** hunting packs then deploy from there"**. He paused and continued, **"Make sure the pilots understand I want them to keep those damned Frazi's off our flanks."**

Captain Classion had taken out a small electronic datapad to make notes. **"They have already been instructed but I will make sure the airwing Commander emphasizes the point again my Lord". **He entered a note into the datapad then returned his attention to Lord Roglark, **"Any further special instructions my Lord?"**

Lord Roglark thought for a moment then said, **"Make sure all captains understand I may change their jump points with very little notice as the battle unfolds. Have them put their best navigators on the jump engines. They must be nimble."**

Classion notated this as his datapad broadcasted the information to all of the ships in the fleet including the Imperial units. **"Anything else my Lord?"**

"**No, nothing more."** He took a quick breath,** "I shall address the fleet".** Lord Roglark walked off the Admiral's Walk, that small veranda-like walkway over the main bridge that allowed an admiral some peace should he desire it. The conn officer spotted the Captain and Lord Roglark coming back to the bridge and shouted, **"Admiral on the bridge!"** The officer came out of the command chair, but knew from long experience that Lord Roglark would not sit in it until the battle was decided. He much preferred to stand rather than sit while men died.

Lord Roglark stood before the command chair and spoke to the communication officer, **"Hail the fleet. Use a tight beam, ship-to-ship, voice only. No video. I don't want the Narn picking this up."**

"**Yes my Lord**," the officer replied as he carried out his orders. It was a shame that Lord Roglark didn't use video; he looked quite impressive in his uniform before battle. His image would impress the troops. But, Lord Roglark always thought of the battle first, his ego second. He never underestimated his enemies, and his order for tight beam and video blackout was just one more example of this.

"**Centauri soldatii!"** Lord Roglark's voice boomed across the void of hyperspace. Many smiled at his use of the ancient word for warriors, soldatii. **"Today we redress the Massacre of Quadrant 17. Before us lies the system of Kotac and the Narn Fleet's central repair and re-supply station." ** He paused as his words had a chance to sink in. Most of the men in the fleet had no idea where they were after they crossed the Narn border two days ago. **"We are to destroy the Narn protective squadrons and smash the orbital stations."** Lord Roglark continued, **"I know what you are all thinking, and yes; once the ships and station are destroyed, our orders are to flatten the mining colony," **Lord Roglark paused for dramatic effect then said, **"And then we are to bombard the planet, utterly destroying any targets of military significance." **Lord Roglark continued, **"The Narn have overstepped their bounds this time soldatii! Though they were able to capitalize on Lord Tesu's ineptitude in Quadrant 17, the Narn will find no ineptitude here! You hold the blade I intend to break off in the Narn hide!" ** Lord Roglark stopped as a huge cheer erupted across the

comm system from every man's throat, his bridge crew included. Lord Roglark's war-ready grin spread across his face as he finished, **"All squadrons the order is given! Forward into the Narn underbelly!"**

Another deafening cheer rolled across the entire Centauri fleet. Before it was finished Lord Roglark spoke again to the communication officer, **"Send the signal to the scouting units to jump."** The officer tapped a keyed sequence and several of the scout ships jumped into realspace.

Captain Classion walked over to the communication station, **"Receiving reports from the scouts my Lord," **he paused while reading over the shoulder of the officer. **"It looks like over forty flights of Frazi fighters; some from the planet, some from ships and the station."**

Lord Roglark asked, **"Warships?"**

**"Twenty-eight my Lord: four older heavy cruisers, two of the newer type. The bulk of their fleet is destroyers of various types with several local patrol boats."** He smiled as he looked Lord Roglark in the eye, **"Their pants seem to be down my Lord."**

Lord Roglark returned the Captain's grin. **"Jump in the **_**Vorchan **_**hunting groups and two destroyer squadrons. Have Assault Squadron spool up our mass drivers and start the jump clock for us Captain: thirty seconds on my mark…MARK!" **Lord Roglark looked up at the tactical display of the battle underway in realspace. Although the display was not quite as sophisticated as the ones the Minbari used, it still would have made any Earth Force crew green with envy. In the corner of the screen the clock counted down to the moment they were to jump.

When the clock showed only ten seconds left, Lord Roglark turned to Captain Classion and spoke the ancient ritual formula, **"Captain is my flagship ready?"**

Captain Classion straightened to attention and completed the ritual, **"**_**Terhali's Satisfaction**_** is fully at your command my Lord."**

Lord Roglark nodded and turned his attention to the clock. As it ticked to zero he ordered, **"Jump!"**

The swirling pseudo-mists of hyperspace parted as _Terhali's Satisfaction_ and the three battlecruisers in her squadron jumped into realspace. Directly ahead of them was the Narn battle station. Captain Classion spoke up, **"All ships in Assault Squadron are jumped in my Lord. We are…" **he glanced over at the tactical display, **"…range 9.6 from the Narn battle station my Lord".**

**"Well done Captain, well done!" **Captain Classion gave Lord Roglark a short tight bow. **"Concentrate all fire from Assault Squadron on the station, mass drivers as well," **Lord Roglark ordered. He felt the ship shudder as massive amounts of energy spat from her weapons. Particle beams, massive battle lasers, and ancient heavy matter cannons flashed in hues of blue, orange, and red. Last were the huge mass driver spheres, coruscating in blue-white fury as they spat out to travel down range so much slower than the energy weapons. Each solid projectile was propelled to a fraction of the speed of light before it crashed into the hapless station, tearing through bulkheads and armor like an over-excited lover ripping off his partner's undergarments.

Another cheer rose up like a thunderstorm across the Centauri fleet. _"Now THAT is the kind of salvo that wins battles!"_ Lord Roglark thought. It was clear that most of the station's systems were knocked out and the remaining ones were guttering like a candle starved of oxygen.

Captain Classion addressed Lord Roglark, **"Station is crippled my Lord. One more like that and it's finished."** Lord Roglark didn't seem to hear, but the Captain knew better. Lord Roglark was immersed in the ebb and flow of the battle, absorbing all of the information coming in from the fleet, making assessments to give orders for the next few minutes.

Lord Roglark was watching the battle unfold. The Narn were fighting hard, but it was clear that they did not expect any attack this far behind the lines, and particularly one this large. _"There are fewer ships here that I thought. It seems our ruse must have worked."_ Lord Roglark had made the location of his attack secret, and as part of the deception of where it was he had sent off scouting groups to two other important systems to 'drop in' and be seen. In theory it was supposed to draw away forces from here to support other places that were never in any danger of attack. The deception seemed to have worked better that expected.

Something on the screens caught his eye: the Narn cruiser group had separated too much from the trailing destroyer groups. His fighters and _Vorchans _were slowing the destroyers down, while the cruisers plowed on into his own destroyer groups. Lord Roglark barked out an order, **"Captain order the carriers and escorts into the gap between the Narn cruisers and destroyers. They need to jump now!" **He paused a moment and said, **"Have **_**Thunderer **_**open the point, her navigator, Hasmian, is more skilled than the one on **_**Stormcrow**_**!"** Captain mentally shook his head, as always astounded at his commander's memory. Fitness reports from the carrier group had come in two months ago yet Lord Roglark could remember in the heat of battle which navigator had scored higher in jump point accuracy. Classion was about to transmit the order when Lord Roglark leaned over the communications console and transmitted to _Thunderer_ himself, **"**_**Thunderer **_**Navigation, **_**Terhali's **_**actual here. Carrier group prepare to jump. Navigator Hasmian, vector to these coordinates and jump." **Lord Roglark paused to listen to the response then said, **"You need to be precise Hasmian. I know you can do it."** Captain Classion watched the tactical display as a new jump point opened and the carrier group entered realspace. It was a perfect jump: they came in precisely between the Narn cruisers and the embattled Narn destroyers.

**"Well done Hasmian!"** Lord Roglark shouted. He could imagine the terror of the Narn crews as the Centauri carrier force split their fleet nicely. The embattled Narn cruisers were succumbing to fire from both front and rear. _"There goes one now."_ Lord Roglark thought. One, no, now _**two**_ of the Narn cruisers were going up, shedding armor and atmosphere in roughly equal rates. Both of the cruisers' drives flickered and went out. Though neither exploded, it was clear they would be useless for anything except salvage.

_Terhali's Satisfaction_ lurched as the Narn station opened fire with its few remaining weapons. Even as the station fired, two of its ion cannon turrets overloaded, adding their small explosions to the already raging fires all across the shattered station. Captain Classion addressed Lord Roglark, **"Weapons are recycled my Lord, except for the mass drivers."** This was to be expected as the energy required to propel the mass spheres to their fraction of the speed of light took an inordinate amount of time to gather into the capacitors without seriously harming the ship's reactors.

**"Salvo the weapons as soon as our cruisers are ready. Make sure we fire together and for effect," **Lord Roglark replied to the Captain. The battlecruisers and _Terhali's Satisfaction_ edged in closer to the station while turning to port so that they were also pointed toward the remaining Narn cruisers. All of the ships fired at the nearly the same instant, bathing the hapless Narn station in multi-colored destructive fire. Most of the superstructure caved inward as the station seemed to collapse in on itself. He heard another cheer come from the fleet after that hit on the station. _"That's it! It's finished!"_ Lord Roglark thought exultantly. His thoughts were confirmed a moment later when the Captain said, **"Narn station is beyond crippled my Lord. One more salvo with the mass drivers when they recycle and it may very well drift out of orbit into the planet."**

**"Well wouldn't that just be too bad." **Lord Roglark replied. He could see that the Narn cruisers had given his destroyers a beating. There was even one _Sullust_-class going up right now. But even with that loss, the two destroyer groups, anchored by one _Primus-_class battlecruiser, were holding their own quite handily against the nominally more heavily armed Narn cruisers. It was the same old problem with the Narn ships: they just didn't have the range for their secondary gun batteries. It was a problem the Centauri had fixed centuries ago.

Lord Roglark saw that the main and secondary weapons on his battleship and his cruisers were ready to fire again, and at last the mass drivers were as well. Lord Roglark opened a channel to his squadron and said, **"Change target! Main and secondary batteries target the Narn cruisers, mass drivers at the station. Let's try to finish this off as quickly as possible before their reinforcements arrive." ** Once again the _Terhali's Satisfaction_ shuddered as all of her weapons fired. All of the multi-hued energy bolts and beams reached out and smashed into the Narn cruisers' rear, finishing off the other three still under power. One Narn cruiser was helpless as it floated adrift, its engines knocked out but still having power to fire and keep its life support functional.

What happened to the station was nothing less than spectacular: five mass driver spheres spat out from Lord Roglark's Assault group, all of them shattering into the station. Two even smashed in one side and crashed out of the other. The station seemed to crumple inward as much of the remaining interior structure disintegrated. All of the station's remaining lights went out, and indeed it seemed to drift out of orbit slightly. **"Station has lost control of her orbital thrusters," **Captain Classion reported, **"It is drifting into the gravity well of the planet my Lord."**

**"Let it go Captain. We need to get into orbit around Kotac itself, then smash the mining base on the moon and destroy the remaining defense satellites before reinforcements arrive,"** Lord Roglark said. He turned to the communications officer and asked, **"What report from the scout force we left in hyperspace? I want an ETA on any Narn reinforcements!"**

The communication officer spoke into his pickup, and then listened to the reply from the scout ships still in hyperspace. He then spoke more loudly addressing Lord Roglark, **"Scout ships report a group of Narn vessels closing on the beacon, ETA 83 seconds."**

**"Composition?" **Lord Roglark asked.

** "Scout force reports twelve vessels, four cruiser-sized, four destroyers or light cruisers, and four frigates or gunboats,".** The communications officer listened again as the scout ships transmitted more information. **"Scouts report they will be able to give exact ship classifications just before the Narn jump in."**

_"Not enough pouchlings, not near enough"_ Lord Roglark thought. Though the approaching Narn force was of decent size, it was no match for the fleet he had here, especially without the station or protective squadrons that were almost completely destroyed. Lord Roglark studied the tactical display and saw that even the massive Narn fighter group had been decimated to the last fighter by his own and the escort ships of the carrier force.

**"We are in orbit around Kotac my Lord", **Captain Classion said. **"Shall I begin targeting the defensive satellites and mining base on the moon?"**

Lord Roglark studied the tactical display for a moment more before replying, **"Yes, put us into high orbit. Have the Carrier group, **_**Vorchan **_**hunting groups****, Destroyer Squadrons Alpha and Beta, and the fighters in opposite high orbit from us. Let's stay in the gravity well in case we need to vector out in any direction. The Narn will not make it easy for us, so let's not make it easy for them."**

As Classion bowed his head in acceptance of his orders, heagain was impressed with Lord Roglark's tactical genius. By having two groups in opposite orbit they could meet any threat from any direction. And by staying in the gravity well of the planet, they were able to use the planet itself to generate more

speed, or change direction very quickly if necessary.

Captain Classion turned back and addressed Lord Roglark, **"Scout force reporting two **_**G'Quan**_** cruisers, two **_**T'Loth **_**cruisers, four of the new **_**Var'Nic**_** destroyers, and four old **_**Thentus**_**-class frigates jumping in beyond Kotac's moon in thirty seconds my Lord."**

_"At least there were none of those beastly Dag'Kars"_ Lord Roglark thought. The Narn Dag'Kar frigate could throw a prodigious amount of long range fusion bombs. Though the ship itself was rather slow, unwieldy, and fragile, it often did damage far out of proportion to its size. Lord Roglark snapped around, **"No Narn scouts Captain?"**

Classion spoke into the comm pickup and received a quick report, **"No my Lord, the Narn force has no scouts with them," **he continued after glancing at the tactical display, **"No Narn scouts in-system either."**

Lord Roglark shook his head at the Narn once again. Sometimes it seemed all one had to do was wave the purple and gold Imperial standard at them and over they came, like that large-horned Terran animal that chased red flags. And so it was here again, while vicious in battle the Narn often left their brains at home. With no Narn scouts either in-system or with the relief force, they would be helpless for up to a minute after jumping in while their sensors adjusted to realspace.

Lord Roglark turned to face Captain Classion. His vicious grin was wide enough to show his sharply pointed incisors **"Make sure the gun crews understand to make the best use of the idiocy of the Narns. Ignore the moon and planet for now and hit the relief force while they can't fire back."**

Both Centauri forces continued in high orbit around Kotac. Before they could intersect, three jump points opened just outside the orbit of the moon. Out of those jump points came the Narn reinforcements. Two of the new _G'Quan_ and two of the antique _T'Loth _heavy cruisers jumped in from two jump points. They were accompanied by four of the older catamaran-hulled _Thentus_ frigates, already almost a generation old. Last, all coming out of one point, were the new asymmetrical _Var'Nic_ destroyers. The _Var'Nic_ was a rather nasty ship: heavy long range guns, fast, maneuverable, and damned dangerous in packs. _"But totally helpless for the next minute,"_ Lord Roglark thought with a grim satisfaction. **"Fire for effect when ready Captain."**

Every Centauri ship that had guns in range fired in a blinding display as the hapless Narn vessels tried to evade the fusillade. It was all to no avail. For several seconds Lord Roglark had to look away as the brightness of the display overrode the auto-dimming features of the tactical screen. The Narn relief squadron was completely obscured by the vast amount of fire the Centauri ships vomited forth. Another vast cheering roar echoed across the ether from the crews on the Centauri ships.

When the glare reduced enough to look, Lord Roglark saw all of the frigates were listing badly, and the cruisers had fires on all decks. The damnable _Var'Nics_ had taken heavy damage but were still in the fight. That would hopefully end as the remaining destroyer squadrons, the hunting packs of the _Vorchans,_ and the remaining fighters came into range momentarily.

Lord Roglark addressed Captain Classion again, **"Captain, please order the **_**Ralcon **_**to activate the jumpgate. I don't want the Narn using it for the next few minutes. Let's make them use their own jump engines if they want to join the party."**

Asordered, the _Ralcon_ opened the jumpgate _to_hyperspace, thereby preventing it from being used _from_ hyperspace for the next ten minutes. Though one could never tell in a battle, Lord Roglark felt that was more than enough time to finish off this relief group of Narn. As for what came after that, well that was in the hands of Lady Fate.

Captain Classion took in another report, then spoke out loud, **"My Lord, the scout force reports more Narn ships approaching. At least six more contacts, too far off for exact sizes. ETA seven minutes. Once the second group is here they have nothing even close." **He paused then added in a more conversational tone, **"After that we should be alone here for quite some time. Except for the Narn"**

_"Except for the Narn indeed,"_ Lord Roglark thought. Once he was finished here there would be considerably less Narn on Kotac and its moon. But that was as it should be. They had killed over 200,000 in Quadrant 17, and that just could not be forgiven or forgotten.

Lord Roglark watched the battle. At this advanced stage none of his ships needed any explicit orders, at least until the next relief force arrived. He winced as one of his _Centurion_-class attack cruisers, the _Vorenous_, took a crushing salvo from the remaining _Var'Nics_. Though it didn't explode, all contact was lost and the sensors showed no life signs aboard. He felt her loss even if she wasn't technically one of his units; _Vorenous_ had been loaned by the Imperial Guard for this assault. Even though the Guard was renowned for its iron discipline, they were just too eager to avenge the Massacre at Quadrant 17.

The loss of the _Vorenous_ only steeled the resolve of the other Centauri vessels to wipe out the Narn even faster. Though the heavy ships of the fleet had orbited around Kotac enough to only have rear weapons to fire, the destroyer squadrons and _Vorchan_ hunting packs now swarmed over the Narns. Though the remaining Narn ships fired heavily, they were completely overwhelmed. Lord Roglark noticed that even with their newest ships, the Narn just did not take advantage of more modern technology. They chose to pack more weapons onto the ship, and use large crews to offset the cost for more advanced sensors, computers, or targeting equipment. This lead to, over time, the Centauri often gaining the initiative by being able to fire first, (and at longer range for secondary weapons), canceling out much if not all the Narn weight of metal.

And here in this battle it was so again: a sharp commander could keep his fleet just out of the Narn's most effective ranges, hammering away with near impunity. Meanwhile the Narn tried valiantly to get his heavy and secondary weapons around into arc and range. When their heavy weapons did impact they were usually devastating as the _Vorenous, _(and now Lord Roglark could see the _Altus _as well) had learned.

Lord Roglark saw that his Assault group had orbited the planet complete. They were passing the drifting station even now, and Kotac's moon would soon come into range. Lord Roglark spoke, **"Captain, please have the mass drivers begin the bombardment of the moon base as we pass." **The other part of the fleet was passing around the heavy ships in opposite orbit. He saw one destroyer flashing signaling lights in the centuries old tap-code. Lord Roglark watched it for a moment, decoding the alternating long and short flashes into words. Once he had caught the gist of the message he laughed out loud. Many of the bridge crew looked up at the out-of-place laughter. **"Captain Classion," **Lord Roglark said chuckling, **"my compliments to the captain of the **_**Trestian**_**. Please tell him that his gunnery crew may have the **_**brivari**_** they won**__**as my treat."** The game had been played amongst ship gunnery crews for centuries: the crews from various ships bet against each other for the most kills, or combat damage inflicted. The winner collected the loser's liquor, usually fine Centauri _brivari._ "**Also, have him let them know his crew is correct: the rules **_**do**_** say space stations or defsats are **_**not**_** allowed to be counted."** He paused then added, **"Or at least those were the rules we played by in my youth."**

Classion stepped up to Lord Roglark, **"You're letting the losers keep their liquor my Lord?"** The question was mostly in jest. Though letting the losers off might lower morale among the better crews, both Captain Classion and Lord Roglark knew morale would be very high after such a one-sided victory.

Lord Roglark turned to the Captain, a smile in his voice and on his face, **"There will be liquor all around tonight my friend."** He looked up at the tactical display, watching the final death throes of the last Narn ship on the field. The last _T'Loth_ had held on longer than its comrades but its end was inevitable. It exploded spectacularly right next to the still open jumpgate. Lord Roglark inwardly winced, hoping the jumpgate was undamaged. That was all the Republic needed: to be accused of damaging jumpgates. It was a nearly unforgivable crime between the spacefaring races. It was far less forgivable than what had happened here.

Lord Roglark looked at the one of the scanning officers, his eyebrow cocked. **"No damage to the jumpgate my Lord,"** the officer replied to his questioning look.

Lord Roglark turned back to Captain Classion, **"As I said, there will be liquor all around tonight Thendon." **Lord Roglark used Captain Classion's given name. **"And I hope you will have some of mine. I have been saving something special for a worthy occasion, and I think this is it."**

Captain Thendon Classion bowed his head in acceptance. "**Of course Jentavus, I would be honored and delighted."** It was a standing rule throughout their almost forty year friendship that if Lord Roglark addressed him by his given name in a public setting, then the same was expected in return. **"Something special you say?"**

Lord Roglark smiled again, **"Indeed. Something from Terra: a drink of victors and conquerors. A gift from my good friends in Earth Force when last I visited their homeworld. I first had some when I met with their Ambassador Sheridan and Commodore Doyle during the victory celebrations after the Dilgar War. It is…"**

**"Excuse me my Lord."** the communications officer interrupted.

Lord Roglark stopped in mid-sentence with Classion, **"Yes what is it?"**

** "I'm sorry my Lord, but the scout force is signaling again. The second Narn relief force is here." **Lord Roglark's eyebrow went up as the officer took that as a sign to continue. **"The force consists of three **_**T'Loth **_**cruisers and three **_**T'Rakk**_** frigates."**

Captain Classion looked at Lord Roglark saying, **"A rather underwhelming force if I may say so my Lord." **He turned to the communications officer, **"Are they jumping in or holding position?"**

**"Scouts report they are holding position trying to raise any allied units in the Kotac system." ** He paused while listening to the transmissions,** "The moon base is screaming for them to jump in, but the planetary governor is warning them off."** He listened for one more moment then continued, **"The relief force is splitting up: one frigate is staying, the remaining ships are pulling out. They are going back the way they came. Scout Force Commander suggests that they are linking up with a larger force some time away."**

** "How far away?"** Lord Roglark asked.

The officer was ready with the answer, **"Thirteen hours, seven minutes my Lord."**

Lord Roglark and Captain Classion turned to each other, and then broke out in wide smiles. **"Captain, please signal the mass driver units to instead begin planetary bombardment. Hunting Groups fly high cover; Destroyer Groups demolish the moon base then move into position to assist with the planet." **Another cheer went across the fleet as the signal went out. Lord Roglark gestured to a nearby yeoman who promptly scurried off into the Admiral's Walk.

The yeoman returned with a silver tray on which perched two balloon-shaped glasses and a long necked bottle of green glass.** "Now as I was saying Thendon, this is a drink from Terra, a drink of victors and conquerors."** He took the bottle and poured some for them both. Classion had never had this particular liquor, so he watched Lord Roglark for the proper etiquette. Lord Roglark cupped the balloon of the glass with his palm and sniffed the bouquet deeply, with Captain Classion following suit.

The liquor had a tantalizing, smoky aroma and a deep amber color. He sipped it experimentally, swirling it around his mouth. Unusual flavors jumped out at him, much like they always did when he sampled alien liquor. It reminded him subtly of _brivari_, yet complex in a very different way. After a second sip he decided he could very easily get used to it.

Lord Roglark watched the Captain decide he was enjoying his drink before commenting. **"Sublime is it not?" **Classion could only nod so deep was his appreciation. Lord Roglark continued, **"It is made from a fruit grown only in one district, distilled, and set to age. This particular bottle is older than us both put together my friend." **

Captain Classion savored another sip, **"What is it called my Lord?"**

** "It is named cognac Thendon; a drink of victors and conquerors," **Lord Roglark said.

Captain Classion raised his glass in salute and quietly said, **"Then to you Jentavus. May you continue to be counted both among the victors and conquerors."**

Lord Roglark allowed his gaze to drift out to the fleet as the first of the mass driver spheres began to fall on Kotac. _Victors and conquerors indeed._

25


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

October 24, 2241: Observation deck of _Quin'Kwan_, Narn Green Fleet flagship

It is unfortunate that most of the Narn one meets are soldiers or highly trained negotiators. It has led to the conceit that Narns only display one or two emotions: grimness, overbearing pride, and sometimes anger. This is not the case of course. Like all sentient beings, they have a full range of emotions and feelings. Most of the time they choose to keep any of the more tender feelings to themselves, reserving them for loved ones. It is a result of the Centauri occupation some say. Decades of having to serve without complaint forced them into a rather stoic mold. After the success of The Uprising they often exchanged this stoicism for arrogance.

But there was nothing stoic about the emotions of Narn Warleader G'Sten. His dreadnought had come out of the jumpgate in the Kotac system an hour ago, and after his initial shock, an apoplectic fury had risen in his chest. The Centauri had destroyed another Narn world. Once more the rancid cancer that was the Centauri had reached out and tainted another refuge for his people.

This particular Centauri House Lord seemed more determined and competent than most. G'Sten was quite frankly, shocked. Shocked and dismayed that only one Centauri House fleet had done this much damage. When the Narn Assault Expeditionary Fleet had wiped out Quadrant 17 it had been a rather even exchange. As far as warships were concerned, the Centauri had exacted an almost even price in Narn warships before the battle was over. Of course, then the station and colony had been bombarded, so in the end it was not quite so even. But here at Kotac was different; the destruction was far more vast. Battle recordings had shown the Centauri only losing a group of destroyers, a couple of _Vorchans _and a handful of fighters. Two more Centauri destroyers had been severely damaged but the thrice-damned Lord Jentavus Roglark had been able to spirit them away to safety.

How had he known? How had this Lord Roglark known that this _particular _depot had housed all of the fuel, parts, relief crews, and consumables for the imminent Ardun attack? Though the station could eventually be salvaged, what it contained could not, at least not for some time. "_This loss will severely curtail our offensive,"_ G'Sten concluded. They would have to cut back on the forces detailed for the offensive. As much as it pained him (and as much as Warcaptain Malroth, the offensive's originator, wouldn't like it) they just no longer had the munitions for the entire Ardun attack fleet. With some careful planning, a significant portion of the forces might still be part of the offensive, but by no means all. Malroth still wouldn't like it. He needed every ship and fighter if he was to push this Lord Roglark out of the Ardun system and reclaim the burial ground. Perhaps some forces and supplies could be pulled from the Drazi front. Perhaps it was time to let the Drazi stand more on their own. "_We may need those ships if this Lord Roglark stays in command,"_ he thought once again gazing out of the viewport at the utter destruction of his carefully laid plans._ "The bastard is probably being given a hero's welcome while I sit here and try to salvage things for our future…"_

As the jumpgate at Quadrant 1 opened into realspace, Lord Jentavus Roglark, the bastard in question, was pacing the Admiral's Walk on the battleship _Terhali's Satisfaction_. Because they had wrought such a tremendous destruction at Kotac, it would have been unsafe to follow the same jump routes back to Quadrant 1. The fleet had taken a rather roundabout way home, much of it through neutral space, adding two days to the trip. Lord Roglark chafed at the necessary delay. He was certain the Narn would not let his strike go unanswered.

As the jumpgate closed behind the fleet, a flash from beyond the view port caught his eye. He jerked his head upward and saw something he never would have believed would be done for him: all of the ships at Quadrant 1 were firing off their weapons and flashing their running lights in particular synchronization. It was an ancient display for a conquering Admiral returning home after victory. Lord Roglark had never actually seen it done outside of the Imperial War College, and there only as a recording in one of the Military History classes. It had been nearly a century since it had even been performed, back in Old Emperor Peraini's time. Centauri victories had been in short supply since then. Victories had been so rare, especially at the time, that Old Emperor Peraini had been disgusted enough to ban the practice, claiming in his mild madness that none of his Admirals were worthy. It had not been until just a few years ago that Emperor Turhan had reinstated the victory celebration to placate the Vorchan faction.

**"They honor you my Lord,"** Captain Classion said. He had approached while Lord Roglark had been absorbed in the outside display. **"None have been so honored in over eighty years. I never thought I would live to see a Gradicolco Erusalum Laurifice" **Literally translated it meant 'March of the Victorious Sea-Lord', though the version of 'march' was more accurately used for 'trampled underfoot' in reference to the said Sea-Lord's enemies. It was a truly ancient tradition, dating back to when the Centauri had been an ocean-going race during the wars with the Xon. Back in that distant past the Centauri had been a naval power, using their vast fleets to bring the war to the foul Xon, the only other sentient species on Centauri Prime. In the end, it was Centauri sea power that won the day and allowed the Republic, the Emperor and the Great Houses to come into being after the eradication of the Xon. The Gradicolco was the highest honor that could be paid to any naval officer. Lord Roglark knew that besides the display from the ships, a parade and fete were also part of the celebration.

Captain Classion was speaking Lord Roglark's thoughts,** "There will have to be a parade, and a fete. To do this properly, they must have sent a representative of the Emperor for the fete. I wonder who it is?"**

Lord Roglark wondered himself. He spoke to Classion, "**This is a surprise. Our victory probably shouldn't qualify for the Gradicolco."**

**"Nonsense my Lord," **Classion said. **"The victory will be taught at the Imperial War College for generations to come. It is only right to celebrate it in the highest manner possible. We killed the Narn almost ten-to-one!"**

Lord Roglark shook his head saying, **"I won't argue with you old friend. But we have no time for this. We have suspected an attack against Ardun is coming. If I were the Narn, I would advance my timetable. They know us well, and may anticipate us congratulating ourselves for some time. They will strike, and soon."**

Captain Classion face grew angry as he reached out and grabbed Lord Roglark by the shoulder and forcibly turned him around hissing under his breath, **"Nevertheless you will give the men their victory celebration my Lord, they have earned it! If they wish to have you march about in your full dress uniform and fete you while they drink themselves blind, you will do it for them Jentavus!"**

Lord Roglark's sharp retort died on his lips as he realized the truth of Classion's admonition. He smiled while grasping the Captain's shoulder, **"You are right Thendon of course. Thank-you. I must think of our loyal men first. It is they, not I that earned this honor." **He glanced about the bridge, seeing no sign any of the crew had heard the interaction between the Captain and himself.

Lord Roglark continued in a louder voice, **"I would be most appreciative Captain if you would hail the station and let them know we will dock immediately." **A cheer broke out on from the bridge crew, to be followed by the rest of the crews across the victorious fleet. Lord Roglark strode off the bridge quietly telling Captain Classion, **"Be ready for the parade in an hour my friend."**

Nearly an hour later a group of officers had gathered on the flight deck of _Terhali's Satisfaction_, Captain Classion among them. All were in their full dress uniforms, medals and decorations glittering in the bright lighting of the flight deck. Their shuttle was ready to ferry them down to Haless IV, the main planet of Quadrant 1 as soon as Lord Roglark arrived from his quarters. Like a good flag captain, Classion ran his eye over the state of the flight deck: everything was in order. The short squadron of fighters was socketed into its launch frames, pilots in their cockpits, ready to escort the shuttle of senior officers to the surface as an honor guard. Classion sighed as he gazed at the sleek crescent-shaped fighters, momentarily regretting that he no longer flew combat missions. He had always enjoyed his service in House Roglark's fighter wings, racking up an impressive eleven kills before accepting a place on the Command track.

His musing on the past was interrupted by the arrival of Lord Roglark, precisely on time. He marched across the flight deck, his iron heels ringing. The quiet conversations that the officers had been having stopped as they came to attention and saluted Lord Roglark. Lord Roglark returned their salute saying, **"Shall we depart gentlemen?"**

The officers filed up the entry ramp to the shuttle in reverse order of seniority: least senior first, Lord Roglark last as was tradition. They all took seats as yeoman brought _brivari_ and other drinks. Conversation blossomed forth as the liquor began to flow. The shuttle vibrated as its engines came up to proper thrust levels to launch. Just before the shuttle took off, the four fighters from across the bay launched, streaking out into the void of space. The shuttle then took off, flying out past the energy field that held the atmosphere in and the vacuum of space out.

Lord Roglark sipped his _brivari_ yet hardly tasted it. He stared out of the front viewport as the shuttle swept past the orbiting station and down into the atmosphere of the main planet of Quadrant 1, Haless IV. He was distracted, wondering how the coming pageant would play out. "_Who had the Emperor sent as his representative?"_ he thought. His mind barely registered the swooping fighters escorting his shuttle, or heard the bantering conversation of his senior officers. His friend Captain Classion noticed Lord Roglark's preoccupation and wondered briefly how to set his Lord's mind at ease. Lord Roglark caught Classion glancing at him. He cocked an eyebrow and raised his glass briefly in salute, which Classion returned. Lord Roglark dashed off his glass of _brivari_, and then signaled the yeoman, asking for something stronger.

The shuttle flew through turquoise skies, past the puffy grey clouds down to the surface. The four House Roglark fighters twisted and flew overhead as the shuttle set down on the landing field. Lord Roglark stood in the doorway as it groaned open. He squinted in the bright white sunlight. The color of the star here was slightly different than Centauri Prime, more white and harsh. As the door finished its travel upward, Lord Roglark caught a glimpse of two soldiers extending a purple carpet to the waiting shuttle ramp. Along both sides of the carpet was a double line of Imperial Guard in full dress uniform, their burnished silver breastplates and helmets reflecting the sunlight almost painfully.

Lord Roglark walked down the ramp followed by his officers, Captain Classion right behind him. As soon as his boot touched the ground, out-of-sight artillery began to fire in salute while military music played. The Imperial Guardsmen drew their swords, crossed them over their chests, and began to beat their opposite shoulder in salute. Each time they struck their chest they yelled out **"Zu-ah!"** As Lord Roglark walked down the carpet he began to perceive several figures standing at the end of the carpet in front of a large crowd of people: Emperor Turhan's representatives. They were flanked by masses of the Haless IV population.

He was surprised when the figures grew close enough to recognize. Lady Morella, third wife to Emperor Turhan, stood in the center position. She was flanked by two of the Emperor's Tetrapathy, their white dresses glowing in the bright sunlight. Admiral Lord Catus, his Patru, resplendent in his full dress uniform, stood to the right behind the women along with roughly half of his fleet commanders. To the right stood several leading members of the Vorchan faction. Some he knew, others not. With them also stood the remainder of his ship captains along with much of his senior administrative staff from right here on Haless IV. It was a shame his wives, sons, and daughters could not be here. After Lord Tesu had most of his household wiped out at Quadrant 17, Lord Roglark had moved his family safely behind the lines. He would not put them into harm's way unnecessarily. He sighed as he walked on. Once he was within arms reach from Lady Morella he stopped, bowing deeply from the waist. **"Hail Queen Morella." **As he rose from his bow the artillery salute ended.

Lady Morella was a Centauri woman of middle years just a bit younger than Lord Roglark. Though she was not a classic beauty by Centauri standards, there was something compelling about her. She inhaled deeply and spoke the ancient ritual phases for the Gradicolco Erusalum Laurifice, **"Hail and well met Lord Jentavus Roglark, Erusalum! Thy victory shall echo throughout time as shall thy name!"** She paused, gaining her first close look at Lord Roglark. She noticed the telltale rumple in his fan of hair that denoted he had been wearing a battle helm recently. The black uniform rather than the normal dark blue. She could see some of the older House bloodlines in his face, though she doubted many others could.

She raised the Gradicolco medal, a stylized spoked ship's wheel in bejeweled platinum on a silk ribbon in a rich blue color. Lord Roglark went down onto his right knee and bowed his head as Lady Morella hung the decoration around his neck. As Lord Roglark rose a vast cheer erupted across the landing field. Lady Morella extended her hand to Admiral Lord Catus while asking, "**Shall we depart for the parade Lord Roglark?"**

Lady Morella was led to a large waiting hovercar. Her entourage, along with Captain Classion, entered the vehicle. The remaining dignitaries climbed into other waiting hovercars. Lord Roglark remembered that the recipient of the Gradicolco was to walk behind any vehicles in the parade. Traditionally, it was from the quay where his flagship docked into whatever statehouse was handy in the port. Lord Roglark suspected he wouldn't have to walk all of the way to the Quadrant 1 Governmental Palace, just past the long double lines of cheering people to the Port Authority building.

Lord Roglark marched behind the hovercars occasionally waving or saluting to the cheering throngs on both sides of the impromptu road. The populace had really turned out for the celebration. The continuous line of Imperial Guardsmen kept the crowds away from the parade route, but it did not stop them from throwing flowers. Most of them were _hrusko_ flowers, the traditional Centauri flower of celebration.

At long last the Port Authority building was in view. Lady Morella's hovercar had stopped in front to wait for him, while the others sped off to waiting shuttles. Lord Roglark turned to the crowds, waving a final time. The cheering grew deafening as he climbed into the waiting hovercar. Once he was seated inside, the hovercar sped off to another waiting shuttle, this one designed specifically for atmospheric flight. Those in the hovercar filed out and climbed aboard the waiting shuttle. Alcohol flowed again as Lord Roglark's group was in a celebratory mood. Lady Morella and her entourage had claimed the forward cabin while Lord Roglark's small group of men shared the aft cabin.

After a flight of only minutes they were circling the Governmental Palace while the others from the medal presentation landed and hurried inside for the fete. By tradition the recipient of the Gradicolco Erusalum Laurifice entered the fete last.

At last they landed. Lady Morella and her entourage exited first, rushing into the Governmental Palace. They were closely followed by Lord Roglark's group of officer's. Captain Classion stopped momentarily before exiting, **"See you inside my Lord."** He smiled and clapped Lord Roglark on the shoulder. Lord Roglark sighed, alone in the shuttle, again wishing his family was here. He deeply missed the company of his first wife, Chantra. Every time he returned home, it seemed as if his children had aged years. He waited for the Imperial Guard to signal that those inside were ready. They snapped to full attention as Lord Roglark stepped out of the shuttle and walked up the stairs inside the Palace.

Once through the main hallway, Lord Roglark proceeded into the grand ballroom. Here was the fete at last. In classical Centauri tradition, long tables of food and drink were set in the ballroom with everyone already partaking. The main overhead lighting was dimmed to star-light levels, yet the room was bright with terian wax candles in vast candelabrums. Though the terian wax candles gave off no smoke, the many braziers of incense did. Lord Roglark's sensitive nose detected two of his favorites: spicy essence of _maltrix_ from the same named flower on Centauri Prime. It was well known that he required his wives to wear the same essence whenever he was home. He also detected the bitter perfume of Terran myrrh, his favorite offworld incense. _That must have cost a few ducats to bring all the way from Terra._ It showed the respect the Gradicolco garnered, though it also showed that the Emperor's people knew Lord Roglark's tastes intimately, a rather disturbing thought.

Lord Roglark's musings were interrupted by an Imperial Guard announcing him in a stentorian voice, **"Lord Jentavus Roglark, Erusalum!"** The crowd looked up to the top of the stairs where Lord Roglark was standing. Cheers and applause broke out as he descended the short flight of stairs into the room proper, drowning out the orchestral music. Partygoers bowed as he passed through them, nearing to where Lady Morella and her entourage sat. Nearby Admiral Lord Catus, his Patru, was speaking with Captain Classion. Lord Vezini, Lord Refa, two captains of his fleet, and a few Quadrant 1 bureaucrats were chuckling at some recent quip made by a fellow he did not know. The man was tall and vaguely familiar, but Lord Roglark couldn't place him. This disturbed him as his memory rarely failed. The man saw Lord Roglark approaching and bowed deeply. The others saw the bow and looked around, catching sight of Lord Roglark as well. All bowed, some from the waist and some from the neck as befitted their station.

Lord Vezini spoke, a smile splitting his bewhiskered face, **"Ah Roglark, good to see you!" **He gestured with his glass to Lord Refa, **"Refa can't you see the man is parched?"**

Lord Refa passed Lord Roglark a goblet of _brivari_ saying, **"For the man of the hour."**

Everyone else in the circle raised their goblets shouting **"To the man of the hour!" **The toast was taken up around the room, everyone raising their goblets or glasses.

Lord Roglark drank deeply of his liquor before speaking, "**Gentlemen, thank-you, thank-you very much. The men of the fleet really deserve your praise rather than me."** He glanced about the room, seeing Lady Morella and Admiral Lord Catus were now sitting at one of the tables. **"Please excuse me gentlemen, I must pay my respects to the Emperor's representative as well as Admiral Catus."**

Lord Vezini waved him off saying, **"Of course Roglark, you must make the rounds. Go pay your respects to the Emperor's wife and your Patru. Then come back and meet some friends." **

Lord Roglark moved away from the group, approaching where Lady Morella and Admiral Lord Catus were seated. She inclined her head to him as he approached, with Lord Roglark bowing in return. His Patru, Admiral Lord Binlamar Catus, rose from his seat and embraced Lord Roglark. **"Well done my boy, very well done,"** he said in Lord Roglark's ear. Admiral Catus had known Lord Roglark's father Quillan, and had been a frequent guest at their ancestral home throughout Lord Roglark's youth. He had watched as a young Jentavus Roglark had risen in ability and skill at matters military and political, finally to take his father's place ruling House Roglark. From his position in the Imperial Guard, Admiral Catus had looked out for the young Roglark as he went to war, making sure he had good and challenging assignments. All of the extra time and effort had paid off in the Kotac assault.

Lord Roglark released him saying, **"Thank-you Uncle. The men fought hard. They earned this victory."** Though he called Admiral Catus 'uncle' it was more precise to use the title 'Patru', the diminutive Centauri form of uncle that indicated a friend of the family rather than a blood relative. Though they were not related, neither would have been more pleased or proud to have the other as a blood relation.

Lord Roglark bowed again, **"Greetings Queen Morella. I trust your journey here was uneventful?" **

Lady Morella looked at Lord Roglark again. Her visions of him had accelerated ever since word of the victory at Kotac had come to the Emperor. It seemed clear to her sight that Lord Roglark's death was very soon. It was a shame really that he was doomed to die shortly. Even though he opposed her husband Emperor Turhan, Lord Roglark had much of what was to be admired about Centauri males.

She inclined her head to him. **"My trip was as comfortable as possible Lord Roglark."** She paused then vaguely gestured to her entourage of other ladies, Imperial Guardsmen, and the two members of the Imperial Tetrapathy. **"It is most kind of you to ask after our comfort."**

Lord Roglark straightened, **"I could do no less for the Emperor's representative."**

Lady Morella looked at him a moment more and said, **"I bear congratulations from your family. They asked me to convey that they understand why it might not be safe for them to be here."**

"_Certainly Glaianna sent no word"_ he thought. His second wife left much to be desired, but politics had required the union of him. Chantra, his first wife and the only one he had allowed to mother his children, had certainly sent the greeting. **"I thank-you for your conveyance of my family's support my Queen."** He paused the continued, **"Was there any other message from them?"**

"**No, nothing else. I am sure they will be most fulsome upon your return to Centauri Prime."** She replied.

He saw Lord Vezini and Lord Refa motioning impatiently to him in his peripheral vision. "_Well that is bold," _he thought._ "They must feel __**very **__secure to show such impatience in front of the Emperor's representative and wife."_ It took a moment of readjustment to realize it was his fleet's victory at Kotac that had given them such bravado. As a member of the Vorchan faction, he needed to see what they wanted to say to him. Their words carried weight as they were two of the leading members of the Vorchans. **"I beg your indulgence Queen Morella. Though I would enjoy more time in conversation with you, many others desire to wish me well. I hope you will give me leave to attend to them?"** It was a sideways attempt to take his leave, but he hoped it would succeed.

Lady Morella raised an eyebrow, but did not challenge him as she said, **"Of course Lord Roglark. I cannot monopolize your time, as much as conversation may be enjoyable. Please feel free to accept your earned praise."**

**"Thank-you my Queen,"** he replied. Lord Roglark bowed to her from the waist while backing up the required three steps before turning away to face his Patru, Admiral Catus. A question was on his lips as the Admiral very slightly shook his head 'no'. Lord Roglark understood the subtle signal and did not ask his Patru to accompany him. He merely gave him a quick bow and a smile and went back into the crowd.

Lady Morella watched him go as thoughts from the two Imperial telepaths drifted into her musing. Adrella, the slightly older, more world-wise of the two (and the only one to view Lord Roglark before) projected, "_So purposeful, as if now that his plans bear fruit he charges onward to harvest"._ Tamara, the younger and more naïve of the two projected, _"Strong...manly."_ A brief glimpse of womanly desire slipped out from her, and Lady Morella kept a firm thought of disapproval in her head for Tamara. The younger telepath at least had the grace to feel shamed at her visceral reaction. Lady Morella addressed Tamara though she did not turn to face her. **"None of that," **she said. Though as Lady Morella watched Lord Roglark march away into the crowd, she really couldn't blame the younger woman. It really was too bad such a specimen wouldn't be around much longer...too bad for his family as well.

Lord Roglark accepted thanks and well wishes from many as he made his way back to Lord Vezini and his group. If they had wisdom or information to impart, he wanted to get it before the fete really got down to business. As he approached the group he again caught sight of the heretofore unidentified man. He was taller than Lord Roglark, though not as broad across the shoulders. His movements bespoke the elegance of a dancer. His brown hair was shot through with some blond, that alone unusual for a Centauri.

With seemingly preternatural awareness he turned to catch Lord Roglark studying him. His mouth turned up in a sardonic smile as he bowed shortly from the waist at Lord Roglark, raising his glass in salute. Lord Roglark was irritated that he could not place the man. He was certain that he had seen him at some point but just couldn't place where or when.

Lord Vezini spoke to Lord Roglark as he approached, **"Ahhh, Roglark you have returned."** In true Centauri fashion Lord Vezini was already deeply into his cups, as were most of the others in the small group. Lord Refa seemed relatively sober, but that wasn't unusual as it was a well-known secret that Refa's only vice was power. Lord Roglark wondered at the unusual friendliness of Lord Vezini as others in the group gave him congratulations and praise. Lord Vezini was not his biggest admirer in the Centaurum or in the Vorchan faction, seeing him as a bit of an upstart. A glass was put into his hand as his back was slapped repeatedly by the well-wishers. Though most knew he preferred to avoid that kind of physical familiarity (at least with those he considered associates rather than friends), all were already too far along into the fete to remember. Lord Roglark played along with good grace, laughing and responding in all of the proper places.

**"You certainly put the Narn in their place Roglark,"** Lord Vezini admired. Several others put in murmuring comments of agreement. Lord Vezini had a penchant for wanting the Narn punished in any way possible. His House had suffered the loss of a great deal of wealth and prestige when 'The Uprising' had happened. Though he himself had just been a young man, he had seen House Vezini's losses to the Narn first hand. Lord Vezini had taught his children to hate the Narn from the cradle. He had been a founding member of the Vorchan faction back in his distant youth, and often its most vocal member. He was a true believer in Centauri supremacy.

**"Yes, well done," **Lord Refa added. Lord Refa, some said the shadow behind Vezini, used his position in the Vorchans to pursue his own agendas. Lord Refa was also a true believer... in himself. He had accumulated vast amounts of wealth in the short time he had been leading his House. Many of the sources for that wealth were…dubious at best. Lord Refa had exchanged wealth for influence, hitching his vast resources and considerable political talent to the Vorchan faction. Lord Roglark at times felt that they would perhaps be better off without Refa, even if it meant the loss of his wealth.

Lord Vezini introduced a few of the others in the group, minor House nobles, and functionaries in the convoluted Centauri system. All were a bit in awe at meeting Lord Roglark, and such worship made him uneasy. He was just a man; worship should be reserved for the gods and Great Maker.

At last Lord Vezini got around to the man Lord Roglark could not place. The man was speaking quietly with Lord Refa as Lord Vezini said, **"Come meet Roglark."** The man finished his comment then left his conversation with Refa. It was a subtle signal, one Lord Roglark caught but Lord Vezini did not: this man followed orders from Lord Vezini because he chose to follow, not because he had to follow. As he covered the short distance between them, Lord Roglark revised his assessment of the man. His every move was fluid yet tightly controlled. Here was a duelist, a fighter. As he drew closer, Lord Roglark saw his eyes and what was contained therein. His friends from Terra had a saying about how 'one's eyes were the windows of the soul'. If that was true, then here also was a predator. Lord Roglark had seen others like him before, members of the fighting societies that never went on to more sedate pursuits. The kill became most important. Often they joined mercenary groups to slake their thirst for blood, for violence, for carnage, never finding the bottom of the cup. That he was an associate of Lord Refa brought no surprise.

Lord Vezini stood aside to let Lord Roglark and the unknown fully face each other. Gesturing from one to the other he said, **"Ahhh, the two warriors meet! Count Desdinova Tyrcos, I present Lord Jentavus Roglark, Erusalum."** Tyrcos crossed his right fist over to his left shoulder and bobbed his torso, saluting Lord Roglark in the Imperial style. Lord Roglark bowed his head in acceptance and returned the salute. As Tyrcos had been called 'Count', Lord Roglark did not have to return the salute unless he chose. Lord Roglark noticed that though this Count Tyrcos held a glass he did not seem intoxicated, much like Lord Refa and Lord Roglark.

Tyrcos spoke, **"A nice piece of work at Kotac my Lord."** He gestured at the Gradicolco decoration hanging around Lord Roglark's neck, not a millimeter of action wasted even in so small a gesture, **"And a pretty piece of metal there."** His voice was dry and whispering. He had a slight accent Lord Roglark could not place, something vaguely alien, as if he had spent much time among non-Centauri speaking another's language. He seemed slightly younger than Lord Roglark, and affected facial hair. He wore a moustache and beard combination Terrans called a 'goatee'. The facial hair was somewhat marred by an old dueling scar next to the right-side of his mouth. "_A left-hander gave that to him,"_ Lord Roglark thought. Being left-handed himself, Lord Roglark had given out a number of those wounds during his fighting society days. Sometimes right-handers just couldn't think from the other side. Taking in this Count Tyrcos as a whole, Lord Roglark suspected that when he received that wound it was the last time he did not think from both sides of the conflict.

By the way Tyrcos had commented on the Gradicolco decoration, it could be inferred he was covertly insulting. Lord Roglark sensed a test but refused to rise to the bait. **"A pleasure to meet you Count Tyrcos,"** Lord Roglark said smoothly. He sensed a menace off this Tyrcos, and did not want to be involved with him more than he must. Lord Roglark put a large foolish grin on his face, feigning more alcohol that he had imbibed, hoping the act would hide his disquiet. Tyrcos' eyes narrowed slightly and Lord Roglark knew his slight subterfuge had not been successful.

Tyrcos aped Lord Roglark's false grin while saying, **"A pleasure to meet you at last as well my Lord. It is always a pleasure to meet someone with a…**_**proper **_**appreciation for the arts of war." ** Again, his comment and his own feigned intoxication hinted at insult, but Lord Roglark would not be baited. Seeing his eyes, his manner, this man was a killer, pure and simple. Calling him out would be suicide, Lord Roglark's considerable dueling skills notwithstanding. Tyrcos continued, **"But I fear I have taken too much of your valuable time already my Lord. Perhaps in the future I might have the…**_**pleasure**_** of your company."** He pursed his lips and gave a contemplating look, **"Either on the field or off."** He then drifted away, back to Lord Refa's circle. Lord Vezini went on speaking, though Lord Roglark heard very little of what was said. He was trying to shake off the disturbing meeting, and he was also tantalizingly close to remembering when and where he had seen Tyrcos. Lord Vezini's pomposity was not helping either endeavor.

Captain Classion approached, coming to attention with a clash of iron heels, bringing Lord Roglark out of his mental searching. Lord Vezini stopped his drunken babbling. Lord Roglark realized he had been listening with some part of his mind as he knew the babble had been mostly about destroying the Narn homeworld, preferably with mass drivers. "_As if __**that**__ would ever happen," _Lord Roglark thought.

Captain Classion spoke, **"My Lord, may I have a moment of your time? Some of the men wish to toast you personally."** Good and faithful Classion had provided a reasonable excuse to leave the pompous Lord Vezini.

Lord Roglark briefly grinned and said, **"Of course I cannot refuse such an honor."** He turned and said,** "Lord Vezini I hope we can continue our conversation at a later time. A commander must be available to his men."**

Lord Vezini looked confused that something might be more important that speaking of the destruction of the Narn, but sighed and waved Lord Roglark onward. **"Of course Roglark, go and see to your men. I plan on being here for a few days; we will have plenty of time to talk of breaking a few more Narn heads."** Lord Vezini strode towards a group of lesser Vorchan nobles and began his diatribe against the Narn anew with them.

Lord Roglark let out a held breath as Captain Classion stood at attention, a humorous gleam in his eye. **"Thank-you Thendon,"** he said quietly.  
Captain Classion bobbed his head replying, **"Of course** **Jentavus."** They moved away into the crowd as Classion went on, **"Some of the men **_**do **_**want to toast you, but I thought I would come get you now. You looked like you were about to wring Lord Vezini's neck, and as I didn't want to give testimony at your trial.. ."**

Lord Roglark chuckled at the thought. He sobered quickly and asked Captain Classion, **"Thendon, what do you know about the name Desdinova Tyrcos?"**

Classion stopped and turned to face Lord Roglark. He was astounded that something had eluded his Lord's memory. **"I don't know the name '**_**Desdinova'**_** but there was a Minor House Tyrcos, back before the Dilgar War. They were a fifth or sixth-tier family."**

Now Lord Roglark remembered where he had seen this Tyrcos. It was in a classified recording by the Imperial Intelligence Agency during the Dilgar War. During that war Emperor Turhan had kept the Centauri Republic from coming to the aid of the Dilgar, even though they had been allies in other times, mainly against their current enemy the Drazi. A few Houses, some Major and some Minor, had wanted to join the Dilgar in their conquering rampage across the League of Non-Aligned Worlds. But with the rising power of the Basif faction, they were too few to sway the Emperor's mind. It was rumored that one of the more vocal, Minor House Tyrcos, had sent some few of their sons to fight clandestinely with the Dilgar. These young men rose high in the Dilgar paramilitary Free Regiment. He had seen Desdinova Tyrcos as one of these mercenary commanders, though he was not named in the Intelligence recording, merely one of many unnamed mercenaries. Lord Roglark remembered the look in his eyes as Tyrcos killed for the Dilgar in the clip. Tyrcos would drink and drink yet never find the bottom of that cup.

35


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

October 31st, 2241: Caliban Sector, Omelos system, ICV _Marron_

In the farthest corner of the Caliban Sector is the Omelos system. Though it shows up on every star chart in this part of the galaxy, it is rarely visited. It is perhaps the most well-known system in all of recorded history: it was here that the final shots of the Dilgar War were fired. It was here that the Prime Dilgar jumped out into the galaxy and gave terror a new name and face. It was here that many of the famous names from that conflict were born: enigmatic Supreme Warmaster Gar'shan who rammed the Earth Alliance flagship _Hannibal_ rather than be taken as prisoner; his idealistic son Ari'shan who was shot down and taken alive by Commander David Sinclair, but not before he racked up an incredible (and probably never to be duplicated) 937 confirmed fighter kills; the diabolic Len'char who organized the dreaded 'Special Missions Group' that caused so much grief on the conquered League worlds; legendary Battlemaster Dar'sen, who fought the Drazi to a stand-still with a vastly inferior force and whose skill in battle made any victory against him Pyrrhic; mysterious Warmaster Ka'Ramas whose work with the Dilgar's Special Weapons Agency caused even Earth Force military leaders to consider twice about invading the Omelos system; and of course, the most infamous of all, Warmaster Jha'dur, or as she was most commonly known: Deathwalker. Her list of crimes and military victories would fill more pages than could be easily written. She is still burned in effigy every year on no less than thirty League worlds that suffered from her fell hand directly.

But that is all the past. Omelos and her people, the Dilgar, will never be again. The star in the Omelos system shed its outer corona not a year after the war was finished, irradiating and burning the surface of Omelos so that nothing would grow there for centuries. The remaining Dilgar on Omelos perished as well rather than let the victorious Earth Alliance know the imminent solar event and the extinction of the Dilgar was the cause for the war. Some say it is a proper charnel-house monument to those that caused so much death.

Commander Trelain watched the swirling spectacle of hyperspace. Though he had commanded squadrons before, this one was the most unique: two gunboats, a scout, and his own destroyer the _Marron_. He had volunteered for this mission before really knowing what it was all about. As Commander Trelain was distantly related to House Banadine, he was a client of Lord Tesu, the unlucky, and some said incompetent, governor of Quadrant 17. Trelain had been out with most of the fleet attacking the Drazi in the Heptharg system when the infamous 'Massacre of Quadrant 17' had happened. He shuddered as he remembered all of his associates that had died there, 'destroyed to the very last man' as that Lord Roglark had put it. Once Lord Tesu's proscription had been announced, he had graciously taken his own life rather than have his family suffer that indignity. Things were beginning to look a bit grim as many wondered if any of Lord Tesu's client Houses (Banadine, Jindalo and Rayann) would be proscribed as well. When the call had gone out for volunteers for escort duty, Commander Trelain was among the first to respond. His thinking had been that perhaps a bit of time away from the back-stabbing and finger-pointing would be a good idea.

Now he wasn't so sure. In times past a little escort duty meant going into the core Centauri systems, or somewhere in Brakiri or even Terran space. Instead here he was crawling along through hyperspace trying to find a particular spot without the help of a hyperspace beacon. What sort of place had no hyperspace beacon? The officers and crew of the gunboats and scout were so tight-lipped Trelain wondered if they weren't Imperial Guardsmen. All that they had grudgingly told him was that _their _mission required them to pick up a scientific sample, and _his_ mission was to defend them and ask no further questions. He wasn't even sure where they were. All that he knew was that the squadron had to bypass their normal route. He had been told that this group had made this particular trip several times, though they normally traveled through Drazi space.

Now that the Republic was at war with the Drazi, this mission had been forced to detour core-ward around the entire Drazi Freehold and then come back to course. The scout ship's captain had assured him they could find the proper point to jump. Trelain wasn't so sure. He had a deathly (though common) fear of being lost in hyperspace. There had been frighteningly few beacons on this detour, and dead-reckoning was an art rather than a science. Commander Trelain was fighting a very bad feeling about this entire mission, and had began to wonder if perhaps the back-stabbing and finger-pointing might not have been better.

His angry musing was interrupted by the comms officer, **"Commander, the **_**Ellian**_** is signaling."**

Trelain sighed, wishing he had something to drink. But this trip had taken twice as long because of the detour, and his captain's stores had run out two days ago. **"Patch them through."**

The slightly nasal tones of the captain of the scout _Ellian_ came over the comm, **"Commander we have found the proper place. I am sending you vector and jump information. Please standby to activate your jump engines."**

_"Did that pimmel just give me an order?"_ Trelain thought. He quashed his indignation and said, **"Navigator, prepare to jump into realspace, on my mark."** He paused to watch the tactical display, noticing that there was a lot of radiation wherever they were going. The clock ticked down to zero. **"Jump," **Trelain commanded.

The jump point opened. First through was the scout, then the two gunboats, and finally the _Marron_ went through with the jump point closing behind her. As his sensors had shown, lots of radiation was coming off the primary star in the system. They were in the outer part of the system going closer inward. Something about this place seemed familiar to Trelain: the number and arrangement of the planets; unstable yet main-sequence star; no jump gate or hyperspace beacons. He turned to the navigator, **"Find out where we are. Something is familiar about this place."** Trelain watched as the navigator cross-referenced various star charts and galactic markers. As the answer popped up on his screen he hissed in surprise, then promptly made the sign of the Great Maker across his face.

Commander Trelain was a seasoned combat veteran, and not one to be given to nameless fears, but seeing his navigator react in such a way made his blood run cold. He slowly asked, **"Where are we Navigator Senes?"**

Navigator Senes looked over his shoulder, fear clearly evident on his face, and said, **"Omelos."**

With that one word Trelain's ephemeral bad feeling crystallized into genuine fear. What in the Seven Yellow Hells were they doing here? No one, or rather no one in their right mind, went to Omelos. Besides the fact that the Dilgar had destroyed their own jumpgate and the nearby hyperspace beacons in the last throes of the war, the star was decidedly unstable. Even now it was still shunting off massive amounts of radiation. Even though this system had been wiped clean of life by its star eight years ago, many felt it was still occupied: populated by the spirits of the extinct Dilgar, and haunted by the spirits of the billions they killed in the war.

Though Commander Trelain was no more religious than the average Centauri male, he made the sign of the Great Maker as well. If _any_ place in the galaxy was haunted, it most certainly was Omelos. The atrocities and massacres committed by the Dilgar had made child's play of anything the Centauri had ever done.

Trying to get a grip on himself, Trelain spoke, **"Comms, get me the captain of the **_**Ellian**_**."**

The comms officer complied with his order as Trelain walked up behind him. **"I am hailing the **_**Ellian**_** sir."**

**"Visual,"** Trelain growled, **"I want to see that pimmel's face."**

An image of the captain of the _Ellian_ slowly emerged on the comm screen. It was full of static and wavered in and out of focus. The comms officer tried to clean it up, then apologized, **"I am sorry sir. The stellar radiation is interfering with the visual. It is emitting radiation into the theta range. Even a tight beam will have some interference."**

Trelain grunted then said, **"But voice is fine? He can hear me?"**

**"Yes sir,"** the comms officer replied, **"its only visual that is malfunctioning."**

Trelain addressed the obscured viewscreen, **"Ante-Commander Lasio, **_**Marron**_** actual here. Are you receiving me?"**

Ante-Commander Lasio's nasal voice came out of the mangled picture, **"Commander Trelain, I am receiving you, though the visual is rather bad. What can I do for you?"**

Trelain inhaled and began, **"First off you can tell me why we are in an Interdicted system." **

Lasio immediately replied, **"Technically this system isn't on the Republic's Interdiction list, though it does appear on the list from the Abbai, Hyach, Balosians, Drazi, the Earth Alliance…"**

Trelain's temper snapped at being lectured by this supercilious pimmel.** "What in the Name of the Great Maker are we doing at Omelos?" **he yelled.

Trelain's outburst was heard by the entire bridge crew. Some gasped, and others murmured in fear. Trelain heard a whispered **"Ghosts of Omelos…" **Trelain had heard the phrase in reference to the supposed haunting spirits, but he never thought in his wildest nightmares he would actually be on hand to put the rumor to the test.

Lasio's sigh could be heard over the comm, **"Commander Trelain, **_**we**_** are to obtain soil from the surface of Omelos for the Emperor. **_**You**_** are here to make sure we are not molested in our mission by any wayward raiders or Drazi."**

Trelain was thunderstruck. Soil? ** "Why are we to obtain this 'soil' for the Emperor?"**

Lasio sighed again, **"I do not ask the Emperor why he does anything Commander, I simply do what I am ordered."** Trelain grunted as Lasio continued, **"I have made this trek once a year for the last six years, and have suffered no serious mishap. We shall only be here for a few hours and then return for home."** Trelain was silent. Lasio judged by Trelain's silence that he had realized the futility of arguing further.

Commander Trelain could find no real fault with Lasio's words. **"Very well Ante-Commander. Carry out your mission and I shall carry out mine."**

Lasio bowed from the neck saying, **"Yes sir Commander. Once we make orbit over Omelos it will only take an hour to garner the samples. We shall be as quick as possible."** Lasio hoped his show of respect would mollify the Commander.

**"**_**Marron **_**out."** Trelain dismissed Lasio. He still had a very bad feeling about this, but would gather his courage and complete this mission. And who knows, perhaps participating in their mission would make the Emperor look favorably at Trelain's House in the future.

With thoughts of possible Imperial favor, Commander Trelain watched the system of the Dilgar fly past his viewport. They flew past one of the outer gas giants, and swung close to a larger moon. The moon was surrounded by a halo of rocky debris. As the _Marron_ passed it, Commander Trelain saw that the moon looked like it had nearly been cut in half. Trelain remembered the report of a combined Earth-Hyach force that had destroyed some sort of weapons facility on an outer moon, just before the main invasion of the Omelos system. Supposedly Warmaster Ka'Ramas had developed some new sort of weapon that Earth Force had not wanted the Dilgar to use in the defense of Omelos. They had used Hyach spinal lasers to cut through the moon's crust. Then, in true Terran fashion, they had dropped nearly forty-thousand megatons of nuclear warheads into the moon. Trelain shuddered. He fervently hoped that he never had to face Earth Force in combat. The way they made war seemed almost…uncivilized.

At long last, dead burned Omelos came into view. It was a nearly uniform brown, with only a few scudding cloud formations in a lighter shade of brown. Surrounding Omelos was the detritus of the final cataclysmic battle of the Dilgar War. Hundreds of warships had fought here, and much of their wreckage was still here, or at least the larger Dilgar wreckage. The Earth Alliance had towed off their own ships for salvage, as had most of the League races.

**"Slow us to one-half. Lots of junk floating around here."** Trelain ordered. He saw that the gunboats and the _Ellian_ had slowed as well. "_Well, at least they are competent spacers",_ he grudgingly thought.

The squadron wove through the wreckage surrounding Omelos. Commander Trelain picked out classes of warships he never thought to see: _Ochlavita_ destroyers, _Targrath_ strike cruisers, _Jashakar_ frigates. All in various states of destruction. They vectored around a shattered defense platform, and Trelain gasped. Before them was the horn-curved prow of a _Mishakur_ dreadnought. Or at least a bit more than half of one as the entire drive section was a debris trailing mess. "_Great Maker she was big," _Trelain thought,_ "nearly as big as an Octurion battleship."_

**"Commander,"** the comms officer broke into his musing, **"The gunboats are requesting permission to enter the atmosphere and land. **_**Ellian**_** is asking to enter polar orbit."**

At least they were following proper military protocol. **"Advise the gunboats we are tracking a Coriolis storm across the northern continent."** Trelain paused then continued, **"If it fits within their mission parameters suggest one of the two southern ones."**

The gunboats acknowledged and thanked them for the alert about the storm. Trelain nodded to the comms officer about _Ellian's_ request. The comms officer sent the order and the scout flew off into a high polar orbit.

Now that his initial fear was subdued, Commander Trelain wished he could accompany the gunboats down to the surface. But, the _Marron_ was an older _Altarian_-class destroyer. She was never meant to go down into an atmosphere or a gravity well. Trelain sighed as he knew he would have to settle for a low orbit, and see the planet of the Dilgar from space.

Commander Trelain reached around the weapons officer and turned on the gun cameras. He wanted footage to watch at his leisure, and also as proof he had actually been here. He spoke to the weapons officer, **"When we pull out of orbit make sure you put the cameras on that **_**Mishakur**_**, I want some video of that as well."**

For the better part of an hour Trelain watched the surface of Omelos speed past his viewport. Their low orbit was relatively clear of debris as anything this close had fallen into the gravity well long ago. Trelain called up a surface map of Omelos from the military archives. It was easy enough to see where several large seas had once covered part of the planet. Now, most of whatever water was left was probably underground.

His examination of the surface map was interrupted by the comms officer. **"Excuse me sir, but the **_**Ellian**_** is signaling."**

Trelain immediately stopped his virtual exploring and said, **"Patch them through."** His recently quashed fear of this system returned. Ante-Commander Lasio would not signal for the pleasure of his company.

The visual was still out. Lasio's voice came through the comms officer's speakers, **"Commander Trelain are you receiving me?"**

**"**_**Marron**_** actual here,"** Trelain said. **"Is there a problem Ante-Commander?" **

Lasio paused before replying, **"I am not sure anything is wrong sir. A few moments ago we tracked an unusual energy signature on the far side of Omelos' moon."**

Trelain swallowed before asking, **"Exactly what kind of energy signature?"**

** "Well sir, it appeared only for an instant before another solar flare created more background distortion."** He paused again, and then took the plunge, **"It looked like the kind of energy spike one would see if a scout ship in hyperspace was scanning through to realspace."**

Trelain snapped his fingers at the comms officer while motioning for his headset. As the officer handed over his headset Trelain said to him, **"Signal the gunboats and tell them to hurry up. It is time to leave."** The comms officer followed his orders as Commander Trelain spoke into the headset microphone, **"Are you sure Ante-Commander"**

Lasio hesitated then said, **"No sir, I am not positive. We only saw the spike for a moment. I actually doubt we would have seen it except we were pointed directly at it **_**and**_** in the shadow of the planet. All of the stellar radiation is wreaking havoc on my sensors."**

Trelain chewed his lip for a moment, then snapped into action, **"Comms, order the gunboats off the surface, no excuses."** He spoke into the pickup to the captain of the _Ellian_, **"Ante-Commander get into the shadow of the planet again and tight-focus your sensors in a pattern with the spot as its center.**" He turned to the weapons officer and barked, **"Weapons get the guns online. I want full charging for the matter and ion cannons, all arcs."** He turned to Navigator Senes, **"Navigator, spool up the jump engines and plot us a way out of here."**

The crew of the _Marron_ carried out their orders professionally. Within ninety seconds the _Marron _was ready for combat or escape. Commander Trelain watched on the tactical screen as the gunboats began their slow ascent out of the atmosphere of the planet. He could just now make out the _Ellian_ with his naked eye as she came around the planet. As ordered she was coming into the shadow of Omelos and beginning her sensor focus.

**"I have plotted a vector to a jump point Commander,"** Navigator Senes announced.

Trelain turned to the Navigator, **"How long until we can jump?"**

Navigator Senes considered for a moment then said, **"Once the gunboats are out of the atmosphere, we can reach the jump point in four minutes."**

_"I guess that is as good as it gets,"_ Trelain thought. **"Send the navigation orders to the gunboats, then vector us out as soon as they are in space. I don't want to waste any time."** He paused then added, **"And tell them to heat up their weapons."** The gunboats packed a bit of a punch if it came to any sort of conflict. They were deceptively well armed for such small craft, though their armor left much to be desired.

At last they came out of the atmosphere, then accelerated sharply out of the gravity well of Omelos. The _Marron_ let them pass then flew in behind them. Commander Trelain saw on his tactical display that the gunboats' weapons were ready. He also saw the _Ellian_ circling just ahead of them, passing the area near the moon with her powerful sensors.

As they neared the searching _Ellian, _Commander Trelain said, **"Signal the **_**Ellian**_** to follow us, if we have company its too late to do anything about it. Order them to prepare their jump engines as well, and to keep a channel open just in case."** His officers carried out his orders, and the graceful fan-winged shape of the scout ship turned and followed the others. Once they were in formation they began to accelerate even more as they passed Omelos' moon. The emptiness between worlds beckoned, as the jump point was a mere minute away.

But it was all for naught. Just as Commander Trelain inhaled to give the order to activate the jump engines the open channel from the _Ellian _screamed out, **"We have multiple jump points opening at three-four-seven!"** That position blocked their planned jump out. At least thirteen jump points opened from hyperspace, their glittering blue energy seeming small when set against the wild stellar display at the moment.

Commander Trelain stood wide-eyed as he saw ships from the past rocket out from the scintillating jump points. Dilgar warships of every sort poured out of hyperspace: _Ochlavita_ destroyers moved to intercept his squadron as larger _Targrath_ strike cruisers assumed fire support positions. A wave of Thorun Dartfighters swarmed out in escorting patterns as he saw a _Ni'Tratha_ heavy command cruiser bolster a formation of lighter _Abrithi_ cruisers. Trelain saw the legendary Dilgar 'Pentacon' formation of five-ship squadrons. The Dilgar were the only race ever known to have such fine command and control for five-ship squadrons. Then his jaw truly dropped. Like some nightmare given physical form, a pair of horn-curved _Mishakur_ dreadnoughts sailed out from hyperspace, quick and maneuverable for ships of such size. Their dappled green hulls reflected the continuing mad display of solar radiation.

For all of his awe, Commander Trelain was still a Centauri House line officer. **"Order **_**Ellian**_** to open a jump point and escape with Gunboat 21 while we try to hold them off. Gunboat 14 stays with us."**__He knew it was hopeless, and he believed the crew knew as well. But the Dilgar were known to be notoriously…sinister when it came to the treatment of captives. Trelain vowed he would not be some sort of biological experiment for a Dilgar scientist.

The _Marron_ and Gunboat 14 roared into action. Trelain was counting on the fact that the Dilgar had no scouts in system before they jumped. This would give him about one minute to fire with impunity before the Dilgar could return in kind. **"Target closest Pentacon of **_**Ochlavitas.**_**"** __The _Marron_ shuddered as the matter and ion cannons fired a split second before the weapons from Gunboat 14 fired. One of the Dilgar destroyers took the full brunt of the salvo, crumpling inward. Though he had never faced them in combat, Trelain had heard that Dilgar warships packed weapons out of proportion to their size and armor, and seeing the destroyer be crippled by his fire supported the idea. In the corner of his tactical screen he saw an alternate jump point open for the _Ellian_ and Gunboat 21 to escape.

Trelain saw that the Dilgar had recovered from their jump to realspace. Long-range fire from several Dilgar missile ships lash out at the _Ellian_, but the scout was equipped with stealth jamming systems and was untouched. All of the missiles fired went wide around the _Ellian_ as she moved toward the jump point for escape. Commander Trelain knew it was a race to see if the Centauri scout and her gunboat counterpart could escape into hyperspace before the Dilgar could burn through the scout's jamming effect.

**"Fire at those destroyers again!" **Commander Trelain ordered. The _Marron_ jumped slightly as her weapons salvoed at the Dilgar destroyers. He saw that Gunboat 14 had finished off the crippled destroyer with its fire as the _Marron_ crippled a second destroyer. Trelain knew it wouldn't be long.

A Pentacon of strike cruisers opened up at him, blossoming vast amounts of destructive energy. They split their fire almost evenly between the _Marron_ and Gunboat 14. He was knocked to the deck as the yellow-hued Dilgar bolters smashed into the _Marron_. He caught a split-second view of Gunboat 14 haloed in yellow bolter fire, and then it exploded, catching the _Marron_ with some of the explosive backwash. Two of the bulkheads on the bridge collapsed down amid sparks and the shrieks of torn metal and torn flesh.

Acrid smoke had begun to fill the bridge as Commander Trelain shakily got to his feet. The bridge illumination clicked over to the greener emergency lighting. Trelain knew that only happened when the ship was crippled. He was surprised they had even survived the salvo. Never before had he seen such power unleashed from such a small number of ships.

On the barely functioning tactical screen he saw Gunboat 21 escape into hyperspace. He felt a small gleam of accomplishment that it had gotten away. The _Ellian_ had chosen not to escape however, banking around and moving into attack position, firing her popgun laser at the Dilgar. Trelain's opinion, for whatever it was worth at this moment, went up a notch for Ante-Commander Lasio. It was bold staying behind to help, bold and foolish, but Trelain couldn't help feeling some small comfort his ship wouldn't die alone.

Finally on his feet he glanced at the ship's status readout on the tactical display: all forward weapons were offline and the engines were severely damaged. He opened the inter-ship comms and gave his final order, **"Engineering, give me ramming speed." **Navigator Senes was dead in his chair. Commander Trelain reached around him as he set the coordinates to ram the closest Dilgar strike cruiser. Just as he was nearly finished setting the collision course, the Dilgar were finally able to burn through the _Ellian's_ jamming. Much like Gunboat 14, she was engulfed in bolter fire. Her fan-winged shape briefly made a dark spot at the nucleus of the fire, and then she added her own explosive brightness and was gone.

Just as Commander Trelain finished setting his ship to ram the Dilgar, another gout of fire from the strike cruisers engulfed the _Marron,_ knocking him to the deck again. Emergency lighting grew dimmer and he heard over the inter-ship comms, **"Commander, Engineering here, can you hear me? Commander I cannot give you ramming speed, we are adrift! I say again Commander: we are adrift!"**

Trelain pulled himself to his feet again, tasting blood in his mouth. Most of the bridge crew were dead. The ventilators could not keep up with the smoke as it hung lazily in the air. Trelain noticed the comms light flashing indicating an incoming message was being received. He flicked the comms switch, allowing the message to come over the bridge speakers.

**"**_**Altarian**_**-class Centauri warship. You are trespassing in a system claimed by the Dilgar Imperium**." Though the voice spoke the Centauri language with schoolroom perfection it carried a harsh accent that Trelain knew only a native Dilgar speaker could muster. He had heard such an accent before, nearly twenty years ago while on another escort duty, that time into Brakiri space. His commander at the time had entertained a Dilgar ShipCaptain for dinner. While his commander knew only a few phrases in the Dilgar language (mostly epithets), the Dilgar had been conversant in the melodic Centauri tongue, but it had sounded just as harsh as the voice coming from the speakers today.

**"I say again, **_**Altarian-**_**class Centauri warship you are trespassing in a Dilgar system."** The voice paused then said plaintively, **"Centauri warship you are outgunned and outnumbered. Your support ships are destroyed or escaped. Out of courtesy for our two races' past friendship we ask for your surrender."** This was a pretty point, the Dilgar were not known to ask for surrender.

Trelain thought for a moment, looking at the firepower pointed at his ship. Though the Dilgar were known for many, many, _many_atrocities, none were to the Centauri. Perhaps the mention of 'past friendship' would allow them to survive capture. Trelain pressed the 'send' button and said the fateful words, **"Commander Dilgar forces: I am Commander Regilio Brokano Trelain, Na-House of Banadine. I offer the surrender of my command to you."**

**"We accept your surrender after such a hopeless encounter,"** The voice grated on, **"I salute your valor."**

Regilio Trelain nearly swooned from blood loss. He steadied himself against the console and said, **"We have wounded here. I ask that my men have proper care."**

**"Of course Commander,"** the voice continued. **"I will send over surgeons teams immediately."**

Trelain inhaled deeply and noticed for the first time a sharp pain in his side. _ "Probably broke a rib"_ he thought. He addressed the comms again, **"And to whom do I have the honor of surrendering?"**

There was a short pause before the voice continued, **"I am Warmaster Ka'Ramas of the Dilgar Imperium, Prime Expeditionary Fleet."** Trelain mulled that over: "_Prime Expeditionary Fleet_?_ What in the Seven Yellow Hells was that?"_ To Trelain's knowledge the Dilgar had only fielded three of what they called Strike Fleets, one Home Fleet and one Reserve Fleet. Their Home fleet, Reserve Fleet, and the remnants of the three Strike Fleets had been destroyed right here nine years ago. Just before that battle the combined Earth-Hyach force had destroyed Warmaster Ka'Ramas' weapons facility: Trelain had seen the destroyed moon himself. "_How long have they been gone and how much do they know?"_ he wondered.

**"Thank-you Warmaster."** He paused then said, **"I am looking forward to meeting you."**

** "And I you Commander,"** the voice said. Moments crawled by as Trelain found his breathing getting more difficult.

The voice spoke again, **"I have a question for you Commander."**

**"Yes Warmaster?"** Trelain asked. As his vision began to dim some, he could see on the tactical display several shuttles coming over from the nearest _Targrath-_class strike cruisers. Hopefully they contained medical teams.

"**Tell me Commander,"** the voice said, **"How did the war end?"** It then dropped to an almost hissing whisper, **"And where is the new homeworld of my people?"**

43


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

November 4th, 2241: Epsilon Eridani system, EAS _Nelson_, Earth Force flagship

One hundred standard years ago, no major power had heard of the planet Earth (or Terra as it was sometimes known). Sitting way out on her spiral arm, nearly on the Outer Rim, her civilization has only recently stepped out onto the larger galactic stage. When the distant Minbari were fighting the Ancient Enemy under their great leader Valen, the people of Earth (sometimes called Terrans) were still convinced their world was flat. When the Centauri took their dreams of empire to the stars and conquered much of the known galaxy, the people of Earth were still fighting nation against nation with wooden sailing ships. When the Narn threw off their chains, the people of Earth had not even left their own solar system. None of the major powers were aware of the existence of the small blue world, nearly on the Outer Rim. It seemed only the enigmatic Vree had had any sort of contact with Earth, and that unknown by the Terrans themselves. None were aware of Earth and her quiet, hard working people, and none knew how they would change the face of the galaxy.

They were 'discovered' by the Centauri, and lucky for them the Republic was retreating to lick its wounds from the Narn Uprising. The Centauri found the people of Earth delightful, their customs quaint, their serious industriousness admirable, their fractious ways charming. To quote one Centauri ambassador, **"The people of Earth had art, and trinkets, and eccentricity to spare." **To the jaded and decadent Centauri, the people of Earth were refreshing in their naïveté'. Like kindly old grandsires, the Centauri took Earth under their wing. They gave them jump gate technology, medical advancements, cast-off weapons, whole shiploads of interesting technological toys for the scientists of Earth to consume. For nearly two decades, everywhere the Centauri went, whether it was a diplomatic function, a trading session, or simply a party, they dragged along some Earth functionary or another. Many Centauri House Lords fostered officer exchange programs with Earth Force to teach them the niceties of how to make war among the stars. The Centauri introduced the Earth to the galaxy at large, showing them off and treating them like favorite grandchildren, even intimating they were related to the Centauri. And like favorite grandchildren, the Terrans saw and learned far more of the Centauri and the galaxy than even the Centauri themselves were aware.

Earth quietly grew and prospered, slowly expanding her influence. She treated and traded with her neighbors with nothing more than an easily resolved border dispute with the Narn to briefly cloud their horizon. The Earth Alliance just bustled onward, a minor player in the galaxy, their Centauri patronage notwithstanding. But all of that changed with the Dilgar War.

When the Dilgar leapt out into the galaxy, their swords dripping with the lifeblood of innocent billions, none of the major powers took a stand. They felt it was a conflict between the Dilgar and the League of Non-Aligned Worlds, and best not to get involved. Only the Earth Alliance stood with the League against the Dilgar. They rose to the defense of the Markab, and with that one fateful action started the downfall of the Dilgar conquest and the rise of the Earth Alliance as a major power. In just a little more than a standard year they had almost single-handedly pushed the Dilgar back to their home system of Omelos and liberated the League homeworlds. Though others might wish to disagree, in reality nearly the entire League owes its freedom to the Earth. The Hyach, Abbai, Cascor, Balsoians, Gaim, Markab, Hurr, and Brakiri would most likely all be extinct were it not for the people of Earth. Though it speaks to their character that they aided those that could not do for themselves, it speaks more to their character that they did not extort the ravaged League, or set themselves up in place of the Dilgar as overlords.

It was memories of the Dilgar War that occupied the thoughts of Admiral Patrick Doyle. His flagship, the _Nelson, _was holding station in the Epsilon Eridani system. He watched the slow turning of the planet below as nearby, engineers rebuilt the destroyed jump gate. He sipped his ersatz coffee through the straw of his Admiral's cup, specially designed for low gravity. He glanced at the mug emblazoned with the Earth Force symbol with two stars beneath it, and again wished Earth's scientists could produce a stable full gravity field on a starship.

The _Nelson_ slowly drifted with her escorts, the incomplete jump gate off to the port side. Admiral Doyle seemed to be watching the _Explorer_-class ship helping with the construction, but in reality he was momentarily lost in his memories of the Dilgar War. Men and women he knew, now lost. The early battles when the Dilgar's pride made them vulnerable. The bittersweet victory at Balos where nearly a third of Earth Force was lost. Balos was deemed a victory in that Warmaster Jha'dur had been slain. Even though her brilliant dark genius was absent for the final battle at Omelos, it had been a very near thing. He was certain the destruction of the Dilgar jumpgates and hyperspace beacons was her idea, even if it was only her spirit advising the remains of the Dilgar. The final assault at Omelos, watching helpless as Supreme Warmaster Gar'shan rammed the _Hannibal_.

Admiral Doyle restrained his sigh as he returned to the present and the current Narn-Centauri war. Clearly nine years of peace were more than enough for some. He glanced up at his Flag Captain who was just finishing buckling herself into a chair. Even here in the Admiral's ready room there was only a micro-gravity of 0.2 standard. The only place on the entire _Nova_-class dreadnought that had even half of normal gravity was right down the center of the ship. A rotating tube gave some small gravity for the crew's sleeping quarters, and the surgeon's medical labs. It was far too small an area to waste for frivolities, even one as important as the Admiral's comfort.

His Flag Captain was finally seated and sipping from a cup similar to Admiral Doyle's, though beneath the Earth Force symbol was "_EAS Nelson-DN88"_ rather than stars. He caught a brief whiff of _real_ coffee and...chicory as she sipped. **"Did you get a package from home Donna?" **he asked.

Captain Donna Peyroux looked at him and arched one finely shaped brunette eyebrow. She finished her swallow with a contented sigh and said, **"Yes sir, I most certainly did."**

Admiral Doyle had known Donna Peyroux for nearly twenty years, and had a good idea of who sent the gift. **"Your grandfather?"** he asked.

She smiled at him saying, **"Why yes, Grandpap sent me five pounds of coffee for my birthday."**

Admiral Doyle shook his head slightly in admiration and wonder. To send such a heavy package out here to Epsilon Eridani was expensive. But then again, Donna's family was old Southern money.

A look of undisguised longing came over the Admiral's face as he asked, **"What kind?"**

**"French Market, of course,"** she replied. Her syrupy New Orleans accent drew the 'market' out into 'mahwket'. The eyebrow arched up again as she asked, **"Would you like a cup sir?"**

Admiral Doyle almost licked his lips, and then sighed. His cup of ersatz coffee (or what could only even remotely be referred to as coffee) needed to be his last for the day. These days too much of even the ersatz gave him headaches, and his doctors had been warning him to cut back in the last few months. To add _real _coffee to his diet today would be too much. He ruefully shook his head and said, **"No thank-you Captain, I really shouldn't. Doctor's orders."** He mused for a moment then added, **"Though if the smell is any indication, it might be worth a stroke."**

She chuckled saying, **"Perhaps tomorrow sir."**

Admiral Doyle waited a beat longer then said, **"Captain, I want you to read this."** He flipped a data recorder towards her. Captain Donna Peyroux, deft at low gravity maneuvers, snatched the recorder out of the air as it floated to her. She quickly skimmed the information as Admiral Doyle watched her reactions.

Her eyes widened, then looked up to the Admiral, **"Are we sure this is accurate sir?"**

He nodded**. "I have been assured it is accurate to within five percent."**

She shook her head, her regulation-length bob swirling in the low gravity. **"This is impressive sir. The Narns loosing that many fleet assets at Kotac will change the course of the war, perhaps end it."**

"**Flip to the Intelligence assessment at the end of the report," **he said. He watched her again as she read the attached Intelligence report.

She quietly whistled saying, **"So **_**that's**_** why so much got destroyed at Kotac. It was a secret supply depot."** She pursed her lips in thought, and then shifted them to a wry smile. **"Your ah...**_**friend**_** Lord Roglark certainly has been busy."**

"**I'm not sure we should necessarily call him my 'friend' Donna,"** Admiral Doyle replied. **"Acquaintance maybe?"**

The brunette eyebrow went up again, **"Did he send a message and gift for your last birthday?" **Admiral Doyle nodded, thinking of the antique bottle of blackstrap rum Roglark had sent. It was sitting in his quarters right now. Captain Peyroux continued, **"Does he call you '**_**Admiral**_**' or '**_**Patrick**_**?"**

He sighed, **"Patrick."**

"**What are his wive's names?" **she asked.

"**Chantra and Glaianna,"** he replied. She 'hmphed' and sat back sipping her coffee, her smile that of a contented cat. He threw up his hands and said, **"All right, all right, so he is my friend."**

"**So will your friend continue to push the issue over Ardun?"** she asked.

Admiral Doyle though for a moment then said, **"Yes, unless the Emperor orders him to withdraw."**

"**That's right next door Pat,"** she said. **"The Narn and Centauri conflict could engulf us here." ** She paused before continuing, **"And its not like they haven't done it to us before."**

Admiral Doyle nodded saying, **"I know."** He remembered the battle here from only a few weeks ago, before the Massacre at Quadrant 17. A Centauri squadron had jumped insystem, claiming to be looking for Narn warships. The captain of the battlecruiser had been pleasant enough, chit-chatting with the Earth Force commander on site. All of that changed with the arrival of a Narn squadron. Both had launched fighters, with the Earth Force commander ordering them to stand down. He had swung his _Orestes_-class battleship into the fray trying to protect several neutral ships waiting to use the jumpgate, but he was barely able to get the belligerent's attention. Shots were fired, starting with the Centauri fighter pilots. Things were rapidly getting out of hand when Admiral Doyle had arrived with the _Nelson_ and several escorts_._ He ordered both the Narn and Centauri to stand down. To the Centauri's credit, they did just that, but not so the Narn. They used the opportunity to obliterate a Centauri destroyer, forcing the Centauri back into the fight. The Narn beat a hasty retreat, claiming victory as the Centauri tried to chase them down. The Earth Force tried to head them both off, but they jumped away into hyperspace.

During the fighting, another small freighter had used the jumpgate to arrive, despite the warnings broadcast by the Earth Force defenders. It hove to, watching the battle. Once the battle was over, Admiral Doyle had given the 'all clear' signal for the civilians to return. Then the unthinkable had happened: the just-arrived freighter exploded, centered inside the arms of the jumpgate. The force of the explosion touched off the Quantium 40 alloy of the jumpgate and completely destroyed it.

Absolutely no one, not even the Dilgar in the depths of their desperation near the end of the war had destroyed someone else's jumpgate (though they had happily destroyed their own). It was a crime against all sentient beings, and one that was unforgivable. Only terrorists even _threatened_ to blow up jumpgates.

"**From what I know of Lord Roglark,"** Admiral Doyle continued, **"I don't think he would purposefully come here without orders from Emperor Turhan. He respects the Earth Alliance too much to bushwhack us."** He paused before continuing, **"Now some **_**other **_**'feeling frisky' House Lord however..."**

"**And the Narns?"** she queried.

Admiral Doyle blew out his breath forcefully through his lips. **"Who was in charge on their front?"**

Captain Peyroux checked for the information on the hand held display. **"Citizen Malroth."** She looked up at the Admiral and said, **"Who the hell is he?"**

Admiral Doyle thought for a moment then said, **"Well I know Malroth is a member of the Kha'Ri, the Fifth Circle if I recall correctly."** Admiral Doyle paused as he tried to remember, **"He answers to Warleader G'Sten I think. He sometimes carries the rank of Warcaptain I think. He was born before The Uprising and was one of their freedom fighters."** Nearly the entire Narn government, as well as all of the senior military officers were former freedom fighters.

"**I'm not so sure being a resistance leader qualifies you for theater command,"** Captain Peyroux observed.

"**Time will tell for Malroth I suppose,"** Admiral Doyle said. **"They have pulled out all the stops to make their War College something worthy of the name." **He paused then continued, **"And they did pretty good against the Centauri in The Uprising."**

Captain Peyroux snorted saying, **"That war was the Centauri's to lose rather than the Narn's to win."**

"**True,"** he agreed.

The bloody conflict had lasted nearly two years. The Narn had risen up and thrown off the chains the Centauri had made for them. In the end, the Centauri had abandoned all of their colonies in Narn space, retreating back to Quadrant 17 coreward, and Quadrant 1 rimward. In the intervening years, the Narn had scooped up most of the abandoned Centauri worlds, pushing all of the way to what was now called the Buffer Zone. They had also conquered several pre-spaceflight cultures in their own backyard.

The Narn had skirmished off and on with the Centauri for the Buffer Zone ever since. But apparently the rules had now changed, as the Narn had escalated the conflict by destroying the Centauri colony at Quadrant 17. And now Lord Roglark, his friend, had destroyed the Narn colony and fleet supply depot at Kotac, deep behind the lines.

Admiral Doyle sat thinking. Captain Peyroux, very familiar with his style of command, waited silently until he spoke. **"Donna, " ** he said, bringing out a data crystal from his desk, **"I have here some new fleet orders: new assignments, new training, new deployments and rotations."** He flicked the crystal out to Captain Peyroux. She caught the data crystal as Admiral Doyle continued, **"Make sure we get these implemented as soon as possible, I want us to be ready no matter who comes calling."** Donna Peyroux filled the old role of 'Captain of the Fleet' as well as Flag Captain.

She inserted the data crystal into the reader and skimmed the orders. Admiral Doyle saw her eyebrow raise again as she read them. **"This is pretty aggressive Pat,"** she said quietly.

Admiral Doyle nodded. **"Either possible enemies are aggressive. Both respect strength," **he paused then continued,** "and if either one smell any blood in the water..."** He left the remainder unsaid. Both officers knew that the Narn would jump on any weakness, and the Centauri were predators, pure and simple. **"Any questions?"** he asked.

She scanned the data and said, **"What about the **_**Stanton**_**?"**

"**What's wrong with the **_**Stanton**_**?" **he asked.

"**She's still having problems with the engine they installed at the Belt shipyards,"** she said. **"**_**Stanton's**_** Chief Engineer can't get it calibrated properly. Commander Balinov requested to return there for proper calibration this morning."**

Admiral Doyle sighed, something he would never do unless in the privacy of his own ready room. **"All right,"** he said. **"Rotate **_**Stanton**_** back to the Belt shipyards immediately."** He shook his head and said, **"I'll get on the horn for a replacement from Central Command. Any other problems?"**

She looked up from the reader and said, **"No sir, not at this time."**

A ghost of a grin stole over Admiral Doyle's face as he intoned an ancient phrase, **"You have received my orders from me personally, ignore them at your peril."**

Captain Peyroux gave him a stunning smile as she snapped a crisp old-style British salute, **"Aye-aye sir. I understand these orders and will follow them."** She dropped her voice conspiratorially and said, **"I certainly wouldn't want to be flogged around the fleet."**

The quip drew a chuckle from Admiral Doyle as he said, **"Dismissed."** Captain Peyroux unbuckled herself from the chair, clipping the data reader to her belt as she forced herself to drift from the room.

Admiral Doyle leaned forward, elbows on his desk, laced fingers holding up his chin. He called up the Intelligence file on Lord Jentavus Roglark. He had no need to read the information, he knew the man well enough. He sat staring at the file pictures, trying to guess the plans behind the eyes. _"Where will you go next Jentavus? Ardun? Quadrant 37? Here?"_ He sat thinking for a while, then shook off his misgivings and tried to catch up on his paperwork.

Admiral Doyle made a valiant effort on his paperwork, but he still found himself staring out of the armored viewport. An _Explorer_-class ship was helping to replace the destroyed jumpgate. _Explorer_-class ships were rare, with no more than six in the entire Earth Force. They usually spent their time on year-long missions into the unknown, cataloguing systems, searching for other alien civilizations, and continuing to map and expand the ancient jumpgate network. This particular _Explorer_ ship, _Miskatonic_, had been diverted from exploration in the Outer Rim to help replace the jumpgate.

The _Nelson_ had cleared the planet of Epsilon Eridani. Though this finally put the jumpgate reconstruction out of Admiral Doyle's view, it brought in something new: a long skeletal-armed structure, the beginnings of a large space station. Larger that the Orion battle stations from the Dilgar War, he was impressed at how quickly the superstructure had gone up. Even though many of the pieces were prefabricated and shipped whole, what had already been assembled was astonishing. Once completed it would hopefully prevent any further curb on shipping and commerce through this system, the current Narn-Centauri war notwithstanding. Admiral Doyle spent one last admiring moment staring out of the view port, and then got back to his paperwork.

He wasn't working long when Captain Peyroux's voice came over the comms, **"Admiral, we have a Centauri convoy asking permission to jump in."**

"**Did they say why Captain?"** Admiral Doyle asked.

"**The commander of the escorts says one of the freighters had a total failure with its navigational computer,"** she said. Admiral Doyle could almost hear the shrug as she said, **"They need to drop into realspace to replace the burned out system, reboot, and recalibrate before going back into hyperspace."**

"_A perfectly logical and reasonable request,"_ thought Admiral Doyle._ "How convenient."_ It was part of every standard treaty of navigation that any aid that could be rendered for ships damaged in hyperspace should be rendered. It was a slow death sentence to be lost in hyperspace, drifting off course until the food, water, power and air ran out, never to return to realspace. It was a common enough fear that nearly every empire or government gave consideration to ships needing repairs, even those of enemies.

In the past, the Dilgar were the only exception to this. They were too proud to ever ask for aid, and after the war began no species would ask the Dilgar: the fate of anyone in such a vulnerable position to the Dilgar was often a fate worse than death. At present, the sole exception to this common decency was between the Narn and Centauri. Though the Narn were happy to aid any other race, the Narn gave no aid to Centauri ships because the Centauri would never ask. The same could be said of the Centauri: they would help any others except the Narn because the Narn never ask. Admiral Doyle began unbuckling himself from his chair as he said, **"Tell them to wait Captain, I'm on my way to the bridge."**

Admiral Doyle, using hand-holds along the way, drifted out of his ready room to the bridge of the dreadnought. **"Admiral on the bridge!"** shouted the navigator. Every crewman and officer saluted Admiral Doyle as he made his way to the Admiral's Chair. He was glad this variant of the _Nova_-class dreadnought had been formally converted to a flagship. It made things so much simpler when the flag officer did not have to eject the captain so he could get a command chair.

Admiral Doyle buckled himself into the Admiral's Chair and said, **"Comms."**

The Comms Officer replied, **"Aye sir!"**

"**Mr. Sterling, patch through the Centauri escort commander,"** he said.

Admiral Doyle waited until Comms Officer Sterling nodded and said, **"Centauri commander patched through sir."**

Admiral Doyle inhaled deeply before saying**, "Centauri commander, I am Rear Admiral Patrick Doyle, Earth Force, Fourth Fleet commanding. How may we be of assistance?"**

A Centauri male appeared on a screen near Admiral Doyle's chair. **"Ah, Admiral Doyle, a pleasure to meet you!"** he said. His smile was wide, showing his pointed incisors. **"I am Ante-Commander Brentavo Epheros Maxilo, EnNa-House of Roglark,"** he said with a short bow. **"I am in command of this convoy bound for Quadrant 1."** His face changed to a more serious expression. **"I am afraid that one of my flock has crashed its navigation computer, and we must drop out of hyperspace to make repairs."**

He waited while Admiral Doyle stared at the screen, studying the Ante-Commander. "_EnNa-House Of Roglark?"_ Admiral Doyle dredged up the meaning of that particular quantifier for Centauri titles: he was related directly to House Roglark by marriage. _"Probably his first wife, Chantra."_

As Admiral Doyle continued to coolly stare at the screen, the Centauri realized he would have to make the first move. Smiling again he said,** "I would be most appreciative if you would give us permission into the Epsilon Eridani system to make repairs Admiral. I do not trust my damaged freighter to follow properly without its navigation computer, and taking her in tow will slow us down too much."** Ante-Commander Maxilo grasped the braided lapels of his Roglark-blue uniform jacket and said, **"You will grant this, yes?" **

Admiral Doyle mentally sighed, knowing he could not refuse the request, no matter how false it seemed. He smiled to the screen as a flash of an idea came to him. **"Ante-Commander, of course you may enter the system to make repairs."** He paused then added, **"Please vector to these coordinates for your jump." **Admiral Doyle punched up the coordinates and sent them to the waiting Centauri thinking,_ "That should keep them far enough away from the gate and the base."_ He watched as the Centauri Ante-Commander received and read the coordinates.

Ante-Commander Maxilo could not keep his disappointment from showing. **"So far from your repair facilities Admiral?"** His expression changed to a humorous smile as he said, **"I assure you Admiral, we have all bathed this trip."**

"**You misunderstand Ante-Commander," **Admiral Doyle said.** "It is for the protection of your ships. We have a great deal of construction going on near the gate, and to be frank, with one of your ships without proper navigation computers, I wish to avoid any sort of accident."** He paused to let the Centauri digest that before continuing, **"However, please allow me to make available to you some of our engineers to help you make your repairs. I am certain it will go quicker with help."** _"Let's see how he takes that."_

If anything, the Centauri's smile grew wider as he said, **"That is most gracious of you Admiral! We would welcome any assistance your talented engineers could give."** He bobbed his head in a short bow, then broke the connection. Admiral Doyle looked up at Captain Peyroux who had floated over during the conversation.

She quietly said, **"Pretty quick to agree to letting us on their ship, almost like he expected it." **

A scintillating jump point opened in the distance, far beyond the planet at the designated coordinates. Through it flewtwo aggressive looking _Vorchans_ and Maxilo's fan-winged scout, followed by fourteen freighters. The tag end of the convoy followed, consisting of two more _Vorchans_ and another scout. **"Kind of heavy for escort duty,"** Captain Peyroux observed.

Admiral Doyle shrugged saying, **"Well there is a war on."**

The Centauri ships took up station in a defensive formation. Captain Peyroux said, **"Comms, send to **_**Miskatonic**_** Engineering: prepare a team and render assistance to the Centauri vessels."** Within minutes a shuttle loaded with engineers from the _Miskatonic _streaked past the _Nelson_ on its way to the Centauri convoy.

Nearly an hour passed as the Earth Force engineers assisted their Centauri counterparts. The Earth Force chief engineer transmitted that the task was done and they were returning to the _Miskatonic._ He had reported during the repairs that the navigation computer was certainly crashed, and that only a full replacement could have fixed the problem as being a civilian ship, it had no redundant computer.

The Centauri warships accompanying the freighters had been very respectful, staying with the freighters as requested. The scouts had not even done a tight-focus scan of the area, much to Admiral Doyle's relief. They had only done passive scans. The less the Centauri knew about the current situation here the better. It was still hard to shake the feeling that the Centauri _were_ watching them though. Admiral Doyle chalked up his misgivings to the fact that both the _Vorchan_ warships and _Corvan_-class scouts had their hull designs based on predatory birds.

The repairs and recalibrations complete the Centauri prepared to leave. **"Centauri Ante-Commander Maxilo is hailing us sir," **Comms Officer Sterling said.

Captain Peyroux glanced over to Admiral Doyle who nodded. **"Patch him through,"** she ordered.

The face of Ante-Commander Maxilo appeared on Admiral Doyle's screen again. He smiled and bowed from the waist then said, **"My deepest thanks to you Admiral Doyle, and our good friends from Earth. Your engineers were most proficient."**

Admiral Doyle inclined his head and said, **"No thanks are necessary Ante-Commander, it was only common decency to give you whatever help we could."**

Ante-Commander Maxilo raised an eyebrow and said, **"These days Admiral, decency is not so nearly common as it once was. I again thank you as we make our farewell."** As Maxilo's scout opened a jump point to hyperspace, and the convoy began to leave, he paused as if to consider something and said, **"Perhaps I could make a gift to you Admiral, when next I pass here."** His face filled the screen as he moved closer to the camera. He whispered conspiratorially, **"My Lord, my EnNa-cousin, told me you appreciate a liquor called 'spiced rum'. This is so?"**

** "**_So, Jentavus Roglark is his cousin by marriage,"_ Admiral Doyle thought.**"I do,"** he said slowly.

Maxilo smiled and said, **"Then perhaps I shall bring you some, in thanks, when next I come this way."**

All of the Centauri ships had passed into hyperspace except Ante-Commander Maxilo's scout. Just as it was about to pass the event horizon of the jump point, a massive spike of energy came off the scout. The bridge erupted in shouted orders as Comms Officer Sterling said, **"Sir we are being tight-focus scanned!" **Admiral Doyle shook his head as they watched the jump point close, the Centauri gone. The tight-focus active scan had given the Centauri all of the information they needed about the Earth Force disposition here.

_"Well,"_ thought Admiral Doyle,_ "I guess Jentavus came __**here **__next."_

52


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

November 11th, 2241: Bridge of _Kha'Q'Cali,_ Narn Ardun Attack Fleet

In olden times on Earth (sometimes known as Terra) there is a legend of 'the kingdom lost for want of a nail'. No one knows how or where the legend arose, but like many quaint Terran stories, it makes evident a universal truth. This particular legend shows how sometimes the smallest of things can alter history. This is the premise of the story (as it is most often told): Two kingdoms fight a desperate war. Whether these kingdoms are noble or evil is lost to time, we only need know that the situation is desperate for both sides. A battle is being fought, and one king needs reinforcements or he shall lose the day. He sends a messenger to his allies requesting they send soldiers to the battle in progress. The messenger is dispatched on a riding animal, known as a horse (a large four-legged beast of questionable bravery and intelligence). These horses have a hard foot known as a hoof that must be protected by a metal shoe when they are being ridden. This shoe is nailed to the hoof of the horse.

The legend goes like this: A messenger is sent by the king for reinforcements. The messenger rides his horse hard. While riding, the horse's shoe looses a nail, causing the shoe to fall off. This causes the horse to stumble and break its leg, thereby laming the horse (apparently on Old Terra, at this time the horse would also be slain). As the horse cannot be ridden, and humans are much slower when running than horses, the messenger does not arrive in time for the king's allies to send reinforcements, and thus the king looses his battle. The loss of that particular battle proves his undoing, and in the end, the king looses his war, and his kingdom (and from what can be gleaned of Old Terran politics, most likely his life as well).

This is a rather dry retelling, it is much more charming told in the Terran idiom of the day: "For want of a nail the shoe was lost; for want of the shoe the horse was lost; for want of the horse the message was lost; for want of the message the battle was lost; for want of the battle the war was lost; for want of the war the kingdom was lost, all for want of a nail."

What was once true on Old Terra is often still true today. Sometimes the most insignificant of things, the smallest of mistakes, can alter the future. It can change it in ways that cannot be foreseen, even by the most skilled or wise. Whether it changes for good or ill, only time can tell.

Leftenant Gha'Lon had only been recently transferred to the _Kha'Q'Cali._ She was by far the largest ship on which he had ever served, one of the new _G'Quan_-class heavy cruisers. Though the technology was based on captured Centauri designs, it was one of the best wholly Narn warships made. Only the newest _Bin'Tak_ dreadnoughts were larger, or more powerful. It made Leftenant Gha'Lon very proud to serve on such a warship at such a young age. He was also terrified beyond belief. The _Kha'Q'Cali_ was hurtling through hyperspace faster than she should be. Her main reactors were running at 111% to push this fast. She was the senior member of a four-ship squadron with three other _G'Quan_-class cruisers racing to the Ardun system. They had not been part of the plan for the initial attack. But things had probably gone seriously awry at Ardun if they were being called up so quickly and in such panic.

He had heard enough scuttlebutt to know that the battle plan called for slipping several squadrons of lighter warships into the Ardun system, presenting the Centauri with a flexible front. But yet again, the thrice-damned Lord Jentavus Roglark had beaten them to the field.

Just now the klaxon had gone off: five minutes to jump. Everyone not already on duty was rushing to secondary stations. Gha'Lon was running at full speed to the bridge, where his station was secondary navigator. He had taken a wrong turn as he was still not familiar enough with the passageways of the ship, but he realized his mistake and was now almost to the bridge. Just two more turns and he would be at the final corridor. He momentarily felt dizzy and paused to lean against the wall. He felt his head and was appalled at the dryness of his skin. He must be running a fever. He hadn't felt good all morning, but didn't think he should report to Medbay. He was just young enough, and prideful enough, to not want to admit any weakness. _"I'll be fine once I can sit down,"_ he thought. Just two more turns and he would be at the bridge and he could sit at his station.

As he came around the next turn, the second to last, a full squad of Commandos crashed into him from a side corridor. Gha'Lon and two Commandos went down in a tumble of arms, legs, weapons, and body armor. Though the Commandos were unharmed, Gha'Lon was not so lucky. His unprotected head was smashed to the deck under the weight of the Commandos, and then all was black.

Gha'Lon gasped and opened his eyes. A terrible smell filled his nostrils as he regained consciousness. A Commando sergeant was squatting down next to him holding a capsule under his nose. It took a moment for Gha'Lon to focus his eyes, and when he did a wave of nausea washed over him. **"Sorry sir, we didn't see you there,"** the sergeant apologized. The sergeant stood quickly and offered a hand to the still recumbent Gha'Lon. He took the sergeant's hand as he was pulled upright. Another wave of nausea accompanied by dizziness came over him and he staggered. The klaxon warbling in the background seemed to come from far away to Gha'Lon.

One of the Commandos said, **"Sergeant I think he hit his head pretty hard. Maybe we should get him to Medbay?"**

The sergeant looked at his timepiece and shook his head saying, **"No time."** The sergeant grasped Gha'Lon's shoulders, straightening him up and looking into his eyes: neither pupil was dilated, though his eyes were a bit glassy. _"No concussion,"_ the sergeant thought. He asked, **"Will you be all right sir?"**

Gha'Lon waved him off saying, **"Of course Sergeant. I'll be fine, I feel like an idiot. Get to your station and I'll get to mine. We are jumping in a couple of minutes."** The Commandos snapped a quick salute then jogged off to their station. Gha'Lon slumped against the wall once they were out of sight. He wondered what he had contracted. He made it the last few yards to the bridge. He inhaled deeply and did his best to walk straight, head high.

The bridge of the _Kha'Q'Cali_ was a busy hive of activity. Leftenant Gha'Lon sidled over to his station and checked their telemetry. His vision was slightly unfocused and he shook his head to clear it. Though it cleared his vision, the shake had set off a piercing headache. _"This is not good,"_ he thought. It reminded him of _jeflere,_ but one had to be exposed to someone with an active case, and he knew of no one that he could have come into contact with that had it. _"If we weren't going into battle in less than two minutes I would report to Medbay right now,"_ Gha'Lon thought, regretting his earlier decision. He closed his eyes thinking, _"I hope we don't have __**jeflere**__ on this ship."_ Jeflere was a debilitating (though not fatal) disease that passed in about a ten-day. But until it passed, fever, nausea, skin sloughing, and eventually vomiting with mild delirium were its symptoms. No cure had been effected yet, just prevention.

"**Leftenant Navigator Gha'Lon,"** the Captain said.

Gha'Lon raised his head and replied, **"Yes sir!"** He was glad he did not have to come to attention, he wasn't sure standing was a good idea right now.

"**Gha'Lon, you must assume full navigation duties this day,"** the Captain said.

Gha'Lon quailed, fearing he might not be up to the challenge. **"Sir, I don't think that is a good..."**

Captain Second Rank Raephon interrupted him sharply, **"Are you somehow incapable Navigator Gha'Lon?"**

Leftenant Gha'Lon swallowed hard and made his choice, **"No Captain, I can fulfill my duties."** Saying it out loud made it seem more real.

Captain Raephon smiled grimly saying, **"Very good Leftenant! Senior Navigator Se'Flor is under medical supervision."** Gha'Lon stared at the Captain who shrugged and quietly said, **"He has contracted **_**jeflere**_**."**

Gha'Lon inwardly groaned thinking, _"By all that is holy, it is __**jeflere**__."_ By tonight he would certainly be vomiting, by tomorrow his skin would be thickening, only to shed in a few days. That was assuming he would survive the battle and even be alive by tonight. _"Well,"_ he thought, _"even ill I am probably the best navigator compared to the others available in the squadron."_ The crews of other three ships in the squadron had been scratched up mostly from base crews and trainees. The other three ships had still been gathering crews after the disaster at Kotac. They only had a skeleton professional crew. Of the four, Kha'Q'Cali was the only line ship with a full regular crew, though one of the other cruisers, the _Wo'Fan,_ had a slightly more experienced crew than the other two.

Captain Raephon sat back and nodded to the comms officer. He inhaled deeply then began to speak to the crew, **"Citizens! We are rushing to battle in the Ardun system. I expect everyone of you to take some Centauri lives before we are finished!"** The crew cheered loudly. Gha'Lon's blood stirred with pride as he envisioned the upcoming battle.

The Captain continued, **"Citizens, I have one other thing to say."** As he paused, the crews of all four ships hung on his words. ** "I have been informed that House Lord Jentavus Roglark, the Assassin of Kotac, is personally leading the battle at Ardun!"** A chorus of growls and epithets rolled through the squadron. Lord Roglark had killed over a quarter of a million Narns at Kotac, not to mention destroying an entire fleet and wrecking the space station. The entire Ardun assault had been knocked off schedule by his destruction, even now forcing most of this squadron to have barely trained crews.

Captain Raephon waited for the cacophony to subside some before he continued, **"We shall destroy his bloated flagship, the **_**Terhali's Satisfaction**_**, and send his soul to whatever hell he deserves!"** Another roaring cheer met this statement.

Gha'Lon grimly went about assuming full navigational control at the main navigation station rather than his own secondary chair. It only took a few moments and he had the helm. Another wave of dizziness hit him. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth trying to stave it off. They were one minute from jumping into the Ardun system. Even now the comms officer was receiving telemetry data from the Narn forces already in combat, transferring it real-time to Gha'Lon and the Captain.

Gha'Lon felt the Captain grip his shoulder as he looked at the simple tactical images of the battle in progress on Gha'Lon's screen. Captain Raephon pointed to the icons of a group of heavy Centauri warships swinging around the planet to hammer a large squadron of _Dag'Kars_. As the fragile _Dag'Kars_ came apart under the fierce Centauri bombardment the Captain said, **"There. That's the thrice-damned bastard. The **_**Octurion**_** battleship anchoring that squadron. There is our prey."** His pointed finger closed with the rest of his hand into a tight fist. **"Gha'Lon,"** he said,** "I want you to jump us in on their port flank. Make sure we are out of their front arc, and all of our weapons bear."** He tightened his grip on Gha'Lon's shoulder saying, **"You can do it my boy. I am counting on you."**

Captain Raephon stepped back to his chair as pride filled Gha'Lon again. He would help to win this battle, and send Lord Roglark to his just deserts. He set the jump clock, clearing his throat he said, **"Prepare to jump on my mark in thirty seconds."** He, and everyone else in the squadron, watched the clock count down. At ten seconds Gha'Lon turned to the Captain for the order. Captain Raephon sharply nodded, showing Gha'Lon an honor by allowing him to give the order. Gha'Lon's hand was poised over the lever. As the clock hit zero he said, **"Jump!"**

Just as it did, the most severe of the nausea and dizziness swept over him and he nearly swooned. It made his actions a half a second slow as he pulled the lever returning them to realspace. The squadron was just slightly out of the perfect approach Captain Raephon had asked for, and Gha'Lon quailed as he saw the damning information on his screen. He had failed, and the future would change. The nail had been lost.

At that precise second, many light-years away, Lady Morella awoke with a gasp from her restless sleep. She bolted upright into a sitting position: Lord Roglark's fate was upon him. But something was not right, something unexpected had happened. The future had not been set and was now awry. She covered her mouth muffling a shriek of horror as she realized her clear vision of the future had become clouded. In the grand scheme of things to come, one small pebble had incorrectly fallen out of place and started to tumble: the avalanche would follow. 

At Ardun the scintillating jump point opened to realspace. The four Narn heavy cruisers swept out into staggered line, trying valiantly to keep the Centauri battleship centered in their front weapons arc. But as fate would have it, only two of the four could make the maneuver. The first two out had the least experienced crews, and Gha'Lon saw making the tight turn was beyond their ability. The third cruiser, the _Wo'Fan_, was able to make the turn, center-lining the Centauri battleship. Though he had not been able to open the jump point at the correct coordinates, Gha'Lon was able to turn the _Kha'Q'Cali _just enough to bring all of the forward weapons to bear. Even the incredibly lethal heavy laser cannon, running down the centerline of the Narn cruiser, was properly sighted on the Centauri battleship.

Though the Centauri had no chance to turn to properly face the just-arrived Narn squadron that did not matter as the Narn squadron had come out in their forward arc. Nothing prevented them from opening fire. Vast amounts of energy vomited forth from the three Centauri battlecruisers and the one battleship. Bolts and beams of blue, orange, and red engulfed the _Wo'Fan_ and the _Kha'Q'Cali_. Gha'Lon was knocked back into his chair from the concussion as alarms and shouts filled the air. The lighting flickered out, only to be replaced with the violet emergency lighting. Gha'Lon checked his screen: the exemplary Centauri gunnery had inflicted massive amounts of damage on the _Kha'Q'Cali_. The engines were damaged, and several batteries of weapons had been knocked out. The _Wo'Fan_ was in even worse shape: she had her engines knocked out entirely and was floating adrift.

Captain Raephon shouted over the din, **"All ships, all weapons! Target the **_**Octurion**_** and fire!"** The _Kha'Q'Cali_ shuddered as her own weapons fired, along with all of the bearing weapons from the rest of the squadron. For just a moment the image of the Centauri battleship was obscured by the power of the Narn salvo. Bolts from the ion cannons, and the titanic lancing crimson beams of the heavy laser cannons smashed into the hull of the Centauri battleship. Just moments behind the beams were the energy mines. Akin to Earth Force's nuclear missiles, they were flung out down range at the Centauri squadron, exploding in a white-hot flash of fusion energy, damaging anything within their blast radius, including the three Centauri battlecruisers.

A massive cheer went up across the Narn squadron as the shots hit home. When the flash of the explosions cleared, the Centauri flagship, Lord Roglark's own _Terhali's Satisfaction_, was listing to port and trailing glowing wreckage. Fires could be seen on every deck. _"I hope the bastard died swallowing flame,"_ Gha'Lon thought, choking back bile as he tried not to vomit.

Captain Raephon's voice could be heard again over the noise, **"Navigator Gha'Lon, signal the 'All Stop' to keep us in arc! They won't be able to turn quick enough to target us with their forward weapons!"** Gha'Lon signaled the 'All Stop' for the _Kha'Q'Cali._ A ship as large as the _Kha'Q'Cali _could not stop instantly, and it coasted forward a bit closer to the _Wo'Fan._ The cruiser _Wo'Fan_ hung in space, vainly trying to repair their engines so they could maneuver. The two forward cruisers tried to come about, but their inexperienced crews were unable to properly execute the evolution.

Gha'Lon stared listlessly at the image of the Centauri squadron. The battleship, _Terhali's Satisfaction_, was painted in gold and Roglark blue, though burned and blasted. Abruptly she began to move. Gha'Lon heard the Captain say, **"She can't turn, we are too close. She can't turn. She can't get us into arc again."** Like a great dragon of old, the battleship swung around quickly, far too quick for a ship of that size. In his short career with the Narn Deep Space Fleet, Gha'Lon had never seen a Centauri capital ship turn so quickly. Two of the _Primus _battlecruisers, painted like the battleship in what could be called the 'classic' Centauri style, though also in House Roglark blue, turned in a much more natural way, one pivoting about completely. The last _Primus_, painted in the newer Republican style barely needed to turn at all. Gha'Lon realized the Centauri were not targeting the _Kha'Q'Cali_ or the _Wo'Fan, _but one of the front cruisers that had been unable to come about.

Captain Raephon realized it too, but he saw that they were only targeting the neophyte cruiser with their energy weapons. Both of the Roglark battlecruisers and the battleship were also armed with mass drivers. Only in very rare instances could mass drivers be used for anything other than base or planetary bombardment. Using them in ship-to-ship combat was nearly impossible as ships moved far too fast for the mass driver spheres to impact unless the target had been completely stopped...or adrift.

Sure enough, the mass drivers mounted on the Centauri ships began to wind up, their magnetic coils beginning to glow. Captain Raephon's tactical display showed they were targeting the adrift _Wo'Fan_._ "By all that is holy,"_ the Captain thought,_ "with that many mass drivers they will blow up the __**Wo'Fan**__ inside our formation!"_

All of the Centauri ships fired at once. Every matter cannon, battle laser, and ion cannon salvoed into the second cruiser in line. That fire alone was nearly enough to kill every Narn on board and make the ship stricken, but for the thrice-damned Lord Roglark it was not enough. A moment behind the energy weapons, four coruscating mass driver spheres spat out of their launchers and smashed into the helplessly adrift _Wo'Fan_. The results surpassed the admirable and actually attained the awesome.

All four mass driver spheres hit the _Wo'Fan_ in the bow, and crashed lengthwise through the ship. Captain Raephon was actually able to track their destructive course within the ship. Abruptly one of the spheres spat out from amidships, then the _Wo'Fan _exploded. A titanic wave of flaming debris and radiation reached out and engulfed the _Kha'Q'Cali_, causing more extensive damage. The explosion wave front haloed the hapless, nearly dead neophyte cruiser, and then it exploded as well. Both explosions caught the front cruiser severely damaging it. She listed to starboard, fires on several decks, venting atmosphere. Then her drives flickered and went out. She was floating adrift just as the _Wo'Fan_ was only moments ago.

Captain Second Rank Raephon was slumped in his chair, staring through the smoke and fire at the tactical screen. The wreckage of his command continued to burn as his men continued to die. The only saving grace was that it seemed the double explosion front had also further damaged the Centauri battleship. It was barely limping along, still trailing wreckage, most of the decks still burning a merry hell. Captain Raephon knew if he could get the _Kha'Q'Cali_ around, he might be able to finish off the battleship, guaranteeing Lord Roglark's death.

"**Navigator Gha'Lon, pivot us to two-six-two."** Though the _Kha'Q'Cali_ would not be moving, a pivot to that heading would point all of the forward weapons at the Centauri battleship as she crept away.

Gha'Lon, slumped over his console, had not acknowledged the order. Captain Raephon yelled, **"Gha'Lon, pivot us to two-six-two!"** The weapons officer leaned across the intervening console grabbing the silent Navigator. Gha'Lon's head lolled back revealing the fatal wound on his throat. Captain Raephon jumped up out of his chair and quickly crossed the few steps to Gha'Lon's station. He pushed the corpse out of his way, stabbing the controls that would pivot the stopped _Kha'Q'Cali_ to the new heading, and hopefully redemption.

But as it had been all day, Mistress Fate had other plans. The _Kha'Q'Cali_ was too badly damaged to properly pivot, even had Captain Raephon's order been followed immediately. Lord Roglark's flagship, _Terhali's Satisfaction,_ quietly slid past on the Narn cruiser's starboard side. The explosion of the _Wo'Fan_ had silenced all weapons on the starboard side_._

"**Captain,"** the comms officer said, **"we are being hailed from hyperspace. The next relief squadrons are less than three minutes away."**

"**Order them to jump in on our position,"** Captain Raephon replied. "_Three more minutes and I'll put you in your grave Centauri!"_ he thought.

The comms officer hit several buttons on his console in frustration. **"I can't get the encryption protocols to function!"** he yelled in a near shriek.

Captain Raephon slammed his fist on the navigation console then barked, **"Broadcast in the clear then!"**

The comms officer transmitted in the clear. After only a few moments he spoke up again, **"Captain, the Centauri must have heard our message, they are opening jump points to hyperspace! They are leaving!"**

Captain Raephon checked the tactical from the late Gha'Lon's station. Several jump points had opened to hyperspace around Ardun and the Centauri were using them to retreat. On the starboard side of the _Kha'Q'Cali _one of the Centauri _Primus _battlecruisers, the one with the Republican paint scheme, had opened a jump point that was even now was being used by the crippled battleship.

But even still, it was not enough for the Centauri to simply leave. As each _Primus_ battlecruiser moved to the jump point past the adrift neophyte Narn cruiser, they poured weapons fire into her. To add one final insult to injury, the last Roglark battlecruiser shot a final mass driver sphere at her, hitting the bridge area, crashing through the now dark drives, breaking her spine. Internal explosions ripped through the unfortunate Narn cruiser, causing her to nearly capsize.

And then the Centauri were gone, leaving only the destruction they caused as evidence that they were ever there. Captain Second Rank Raephon walked back to his command chair and slumped into it, realizing for the next two minutes he was the commanding officer of the Ardun system.

In hyperspace, Lord Jentavus Roglark was seething. Though the fires were out, the smoke still hung on the bridge. _Terhali's Satisfaction _was heavily damaged, more heavily damaged that she had ever been. She would have to be sent back to Quadrant 1 for repairs as she was too heavily damaged to continue at the front. Reports from the damage control teams were coming over the inter-ship comms, adding to the noise from the damaged engines.

Now that they were out of danger, Lord Roglark crossed the bridge to what remained of the Admiral's Walk. He was forced to dodge some of the larger pieces of debris that dotted the floor. Some were still smoldering. Crewmembers were dragging the dead to one side of the Admiral's Walk. Just inside the Walk, Captain Classion was laying on the deck being tended to by a crewman. Lord Roglark stopped and knelt down next to him. **"How is he?"** Lord Roglark asked the crewman.

Captain Classion opened his eyes saying, **"I am well enough my Lord."**

The crewman nodded his head in agreement saying, **"I have stopped the bleeding my Lord"**

"**Good," **Lord Roglark replied. In battle it was not uncommon for Centauri to bleed out. Despite all of their advancements in medicine, no scientist had been able to synthesize Centauri blood. **"Are you in pain Captain?"**

Captain Classion said, **"I feel fine my Lord."**

The crewman said, **"I have administered syrup of **_**pyrpis **_**my Lord."**

Syrup of _pyrpis _was a potent painkiller. Often used illicitly as a pleasure drug, it could be highly addictive if taken for too long. **"Be careful how much you give him," **Lord Roglark cautioned.

The crewman nodded, knowing of the addictive properties of the syrup,** "He should be fine until a medical team arrives my Lord."**

As if summoned by the crewman's words, a medical team trooped onto the bridge. Lord Roglark stood and motioned them over to the remains of the Admiral's Walk. They hustled over and got to work on the Captain. They applied various bracings to the Captain's body, then hoisted him up onto an antigrav stretcher. The Chief of the team saluted Lord Roglark and said, **"The Captain is in no immediate danger my Lord. With your permission we will move him to the medical section."**

Lord Roglark nodded his permission. He grasped Captain Classion's arm above the wrist in farewell. The Captain weakly returned the grasp. **"Heal quickly Thendon, I shall need you before long."**

Captain Thendon Classion gave a ghost of a smile saying, **"I shall Jentavus."** The medical Chief cleared his throat, and Lord Roglark gave Thendon's arm one last squeeze then let the medical team take him.

Lord Roglark watched them go. The ventilators had cleared more of the smoke, but it was far from gone. He straightened his shoulders and said, **"Comms!"**

The secondary communications officer snapped around in his chair saying, **"Yes my Lord?"**

Lord Roglark strode across the bridge to the comms officer's station. He said, **"Signal Captain Arrado on the **_**Antharcus.**_** Inform him I shall be shifting the flag to **_**Antharcus. **_**Tell him to heave to and await my arrival."** He paused to think a moment then continued, **"Also signal the **_**Dioteges**_**. Inform them they are to escort **_**Terhali's Satisfaction**_** back to the shipyard at Quadrant 1. They are to make best speed back, and to take **_**Terhali's Satisfaction**_** in tow if necessary."** He clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace next to the communications station. After a moment he continued, **"Fleet-wide orders: All ships damaged at more than twenty-five percent are to return with **_**Terhali's Satisfaction**_**. All wounded that can be moved are to be transferred to ships returning home, and some of the unwounded crew from those leaving are to be apportioned across the remaining ships that are staying behind."**

"**Whom shall I signal to stay behind my Lord?"** he asked.

Lord Roglark snapped around and stepped up to the Captain's console. He swore under his breath as he had forgotten the explosion that had injured Thendon had also destroyed the Captain's console. He looked up and glanced around the bridge saying, **"Who has a command-level console functioning?"**

The survey officer jumped up and stood at attention. He said, **"My console functions my Lord!"**

Lord Roglark walked over to the survey station and sat down saying, **"My thanks Surveyor Lowien." ** Lord Roglark checked the fleet status reports and began sending his list to the comms station. He then addressed the comms officer, **"You should have the list of those ships that are to remain. Inform the fleet."**

The comms officer began his task of informing those that would leave and those that would stay. Though he had not been ordered to, he slipped in a command for Lord Roglark's shuttle to begin preflight preparatory to moving him to the _Antharcus_. The comms officer found it telling that Lord Roglark had chosen to shift to the _Antharcus _rather than the _Telmane_ for the next battle; Captain Arrado had a reputation for being a fire-eater. Some said he was a bit bloodthirsty as well. After all, it was his ship that had fired the last mass driver at the crippled Narn cruiser.

Lord Roglark abruptly stood and left the bridge. He used the private lift that only the Admiral or Captain could use. Luckily it still worked. The lift deposited Lord Roglark just outside his private quarters. The hall lighting seemed intermittent on this deck. He palmed the door just as the power flickered again, forcing him to palm it a second time before he could go inside. A vision of chaos greeted him. The gravity had fluctuated briefly during the last part of the battle, and much of his personal belongings had crashed about his quarters. He scrounged around until he found a bottle of liquor, he didn't much care what it was. He poured a glass and quaffed it off, the sweet taste of _dansilia_ filling his mouth. "_Not what I would have chosen,"_ he thought, but it was better than nothing.

Lord Roglark flipped one of the chairs upright and sat down. He poured another glass of the _dansilia_ and sipped it, hardly tasting the insipid sweetness. He pondered over the last few minutes of the battle. A feeling of misgiving had fallen over him just after the start of the battle, despite the fact that the Narns were giving a rather poor showing. When his scouts in hyperspace had alerted him to the incoming Narn cruiser squadron his blood had run cold. He seemed to feel Mother Death's wings enfold him, and he abruptly knew that his dream of his death was most likely at hand.

All Centauri, male or female, were mildly prescient but usually only about their own death. Lord Roglark had dreamed off and on about his death since coming into adolescence. His dream showed him on the bridge of a vessel of war (the first time he had been on _Terhali's Satisfaction _he recognized the bridge). Fires burned all around, and men lay dead on the deck. He had just given an order to ramp up the engines to ramming speed. The order was obeyed. As he felt the acceleration to ram he saw himself begin a short prayer to the Great Maker. Then a terrible white light covered him, and he was gone.

But that was not how it played out. As he saw the Narn cruisers jump in he could see instinctively that they had not jumped properly. They had savaged him to be sure, but if they had jumped in properly the Narns would have been able to concentrate _all_ of their firepower. As it was, Thendon had been injured and was unconscious, fires had burned across the bridge, and men had been killed and were lying on the deck. The moment for him to give the ramming order had come, and for a brief second he considered it, but then he saw another way. He knew they could not destroy him, he simply knew. With that thought, he gave the order to come about. They almost hadn't been able. The chief engineer had expressed dismay that they were pushing the engines too much for the maneuver. He had told the chief to **"Damn the engines! Bring us about!" **As it was, the chief engineer had to damage the engines to get _Terhali's Satisfaction_ around into firing position. But oh, once they _had_ come about...Even as badly wounded as she was, _Terhali's Satisfaction_ had still carried the day.

Lord Roglark stood abruptly. He dashed off the remaining liquor in his glass. He felt supremely confident that he had made the right decision to come about: something somewhere, whether it was the Great Maker, or one of the other gods, or something else, had wanted him to survive. He collected a few more things that he wanted for his move to _Antharcus:_ his favorite _koltari _(the traditional Centauri short sword), some clothing, one of the ancient and lethal hand-held matter guns. He almost took a holo-portrait of his family, but thought better of it. It would be best if they did not see him just now. He would need to be as ruthless as possible if the Narn were to understand they could not have Ardun or any other system in the Buffer Zone.

He packed his things into a valise and had turned to leave when something caught his eye: a small statuary. It was one of his favorites. Mother Death on her throne in full state with her six wings unfurled. In front of her was the Lord of War, a bared _koltari_ in one hand, across his chest in an Imperial salute, a spear in his other hand, kneeling as supplicant, asking for her blessing.

After only a moment's contemplation he snatched up the statuary. He walked out of his quarters, punching in instructions for the steward staff about getting it back to proper trim during his absence. He paused at an inter-ship comms console and ordered his shuttle crew to begin their preflight, only to find the secondary communications officer had already told them earlier. _"That boy is sharp."_ He thought.

Lord Roglark looked again at the statuary in his hand. He was in an odd mood, heady, almost fey. He abruptly put down the valise and felt an impulse to pray. He promptly dropped to one knee. He placed the statuary on the deck and drew his _koltari _from the valise. He crossed the sword over his chest in a salute, and then he bowed his head and began to pray. _"Lord of War, mighty beyond reckoning, grant me the skill to defeat mine enemies. Instill in me the resolve to fully complete mine enemies' destruction. Send me thy divine strength that neither my shield nor sword shall falter in the defense of family and Republic."_ He was about to open his eyes and rise, but followed an impulse to add one more prayer. _"Mother Death, the One to Whom All Must Come, I ask that thou receive the many enemies I send to thy embrace."_ He paused then added to his prayer, _"Mother Death, delay thy call for me until I should send mine enemies to thee._ He opened his eyes. A war-ready grin spread across his face as he said, **"They shall come to you upon swift wings."**

63


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

November 13th, 2241: Narn-Centauri Buffer Zone, Ardun system

Between the border of the Narn Regime and the Centauri Republic lie many empty and lifeless worlds. Some are the remnants of Centauri mining or agro pursuits. Some few had primitive life, but by far the vast majority had no life beyond the microscopic stage. Scientists of many species have been unable to determine why the swath is so lifeless, especially in a galaxy so ripe with life everywhere else.

In nearly the center of the Buffer Zone is the Ardun system. There is only one planet in the system, a small, dusty, unattractive world orbiting an ancient red giant star. Ardun had no indigenous life when it was discovered and surveyed by the Centauri. It had a thin atmosphere, and no tectonic activity. Its planetary crust was comprised of an iron-rich ore that gave it a red appearance. One of the initial surveyors described having the red sunlight strike the red dust made the whole of the planet look as if, **"...it was covered in dried blood."** It proved a prophetic statement.

Minor House Oltovan was the first to exploit Ardun. They had paid the initial survey team and thus reaped the spoils. They began extracting deposits of the rare Quantium 40, without which hyperspace travel could not occur. After a few years the rather meager deposits of the Quantium 40 were depleted, but in a coup of backroom dealing, House Oltovan was able to pass off Ardun to House Pharon by convincing them more deposits of Quantium 40 were available, but were too dangerous to extract without slave labor, and House Oltovan was without the means to purchase a large slave workforce. House Pharon felt it got the deal, and was outraged and embarrassed to have been so fooled. But as they had already purchased large numbers of slaves, they tried to make the best of a bad situation and begin mining whatever they could while plotting House Oltovan's demise (something they were able to accomplish in just under twenty-five years).

House Pharon mined out vast amounts of virdanium, a relatively common ore used mainly for ion engine shielding. At the time, most of the Centauri fleet, as well as all of their subject races used one form of ion engine or another, and Ardun became profitable again. However, virdanium was common throughout the Republic, and only the centralized location of Ardun, and the vast slave labor force made mining it profitable.

Time passed, and the march of technology continued unchecked. Eventually most Centauri ships gave up ion power for the more advanced gravitic propulsion systems. Once the upgrade to gravitic drives was complete across the Republic, the bottom fell out of the virdanium market. House Pharon continued to eke out a small profit from the Ardun mines by mainly selling to new customers outside the Centauri Republic. In the aftermath of the Narn Uprising, Earth (sometimes know as Terra) was their main customer, at least until the Terrans learned how to extract and refine their own sources of virdanium.

House Pharon continued to mine on Ardun after the Uprising began, and right up until its very end with the final retreat out of the Buffer Zone. By that point most of the Narn slaves had simply refused to leave their pens to work, and the House Pharon guards were afraid to kill anymore, least they rise in violence. House Pharon abandoned Ardun when they were warned by the Centauri Fleet that rebel Narn ships were only hours away. The Centauri of House Pharon simply packed up and fled, leaving just over one hundred thousand Narn slaves in the underground complex (Ardun had a toxic atmosphere, and the entire mine complex was in sealed underground facilities rather than domes).

But as always with Narn-Centauri relations, 'simple' is not necessarily what it seems. Once all of the Centauri personnel were safely off Ardun, and the former Narn slaves were celebrating the soon-to-arrive liberation ships, Lord Anton Pharon ordered a mass driver strike against the mine complex. For nearly three hours the House Pharon cruisers poured mass driver fire into Ardun. The mines collapsed, killing every Narn on the planet. As Ardun had no tectonic activity, there had been no need to strengthen the underground complex against earthquakes. However, even had the cave-ins not slain the former Narn slaves, the bombardment broke the seals that contained the livable atmosphere. Those that did not perish in the collapse certainly died choking on the thin toxic atmosphere of Ardun.

When the Narn liberation ships arrived they found a vast tomb. They wailed in grief while growling in anger and hatred at what the Centauri had done. There was no effort made to extract the dead. Ardun became a monument for the Narn, a vast piece of hallowed ground.

But the Centauri were unwilling to relinquish their claims to the planet. Though the Centauri would not occupy Ardun, they did not want the Narn having it either. Far too many jump routes went from Ardun to various places, even to the interior of the Republic. The Centauri feared (and rightfully so) that someday the Narn might use Ardun as a staging ground for invasion.

And now, for almost two generations, the Narn and the Centauri have been fighting over Ardun. It has been covered in blood many times over, including that of House Pharon. Not long after House Pharon's return to Centauri Prime, Old Emperor Peraini flew into a rage at their conduct. He had been hard at work securing the goodwill of the Abbai and Hyach to mediate a ceasefire with the other races trying to capitalize on the Narn Uprising. After the atrocity Lord Pharon had committed, the Abbai and Hyach withdrew their diplomats and left the Centauri to hang on their own.

Old Emperor Peraini eventually ordered House Pharon proscribed, their assets seized, the House dissolved, and many of their sons executed. In the end he left only two sons: Entrian, a boy of six, and the other an unnamed newborn (his mother was pregnant at the time of the retreat from Ardun). To save what remained of his family, the boy Entrian had to challenge his own mother's family to the _Marrago:_ the honor duel to the death. Amid many tears, his own maternal grandfather, Count Wastun Tyrcos, killed Entrian Pharon the ring, and was thereby legally able to absorb into his House the last son of the late House Pharon, his newborn grandson Desdinova Tyrcos.

Lord Jentavus Roglark stood on the bridge of the battlecruiser _Antharcus_. The deck plates under his feet trembled slightly as she fired at the Narn cruiser again. The target was an older _T'Loth_-class cruiser, and though it was stoutly built it finally came apart under the Centauri barrage. Lord Roglark glanced away from the tactical and saw the old Narn cruiser drifting away, trailing wreckage and flames in nearly equal measure. On its present course it was falling into the gravity well of Ardun. Even now its remaining hull plating was beginning to glow as it fell into the upper atmosphere of the planet. _"No survivors there,"_ Lord Roglark thought.

He turned away from the tactical display. Captain Rantison Arrado was standing behind the navigator's station. The Captain's Roglark-blue duty uniform was partially covered by his body armor. He wore a sword a bit longer than the traditional _koltari_ on one hip, and carried a custom-made ion pistol on the other. Lord Roglark knew the pistol was altered to compensate for the loss of three fingers on Captain Arrado's hand. He had lost the fingers as a destroyer captain when the Narn had boarded his ship.

The _Antharcus_ had no Admiral's Chair, and Captain Arrado insisted Lord Roglark use the captain's chair whenever he was on the bridge. Not that there was much chance to sit this battle. The Narn were hitting hard and heavy, the main thrust of the attack was upon them.

"**Bring her around the other **_**T'Loth**_** so it can't hit us with its heavy weapons," **Captain Arrado ordered. The _Antharcus_ slid to port of the remaining Narn cruiser firing as she went. The already damaged Narn crumpled inward as she succumbed to the fire. Lord Roglark saw the other three _Primus _battlecruisers in their squadron fly into formation.

Some distance away, two squadrons of the ghastly Narn _Dag'Kar _bombardment ships were deployed with four more of the antique _T'Loth_ cruisers. They were not yet close enough to fire off their energy mines at Lord Roglark's squadron. But that would change in the next couple of minutes, unless something was done about it. **"Comms!"** Lord Roglark barked.

"**Aye sir!"** The Comms Officer winced and said, **"I'm sorry my Lord."**

The crew of the _Antharcus _was unused to serving with him on board, and kept using 'sir' rather than 'my Lord'. Lord Roglark waved away the apology saying, **"Contact Captain Michelas of the **_**Valerius.**_** Give him the coordinates of that large group of **_**Dag'Kars.**_**"** He smiled a quick savage grin and added,** "Let him know it is time to spring the trap." **

The Comms Officer relayed the message, and moments later a jump point opened just beyond the _Dag'Kars_. Out of its scintillating blue depths flew over forty flights of Centauri fighters. The crescent-shaped fighters swarmed over the _Dag'Kars_, some skimming just over the surface of the hull. Though their cruiser escorts were heavily armed, those antique Narn cruisers had no anti-fighter capability. It proved to be the _Dag'Kars _undoing.

The weapons of the Centauri fighters pounded the fragile hulls of the _Dag'Kars_. Never meant to be in direct combat, the Narn bombardment ships quickly succumbed to the fusillade. Some of the hapless Narn ships had no less than thirty individual fighters targeting them. In less than a minute the Centauri fighters had reduced the _Dag'Kars_ to just so much burning wreckage. The mass of Centauri fighters was so zealous in their attack that two of the _Dag'Kars_ exploded. It proved suicidal for while the wavefront from the explosions damaged the remaining _Dag'Kars_, it destroyed several of the fighters as well.

Lord Roglark made a mental note to issue new training procedures for fighter pilots while working in large groups. This method of mass waves of fighters destroying warships was relatively new to the Centauri. In truth it was not even his idea: Lord Roglark had seized on the attack style after studying battle recordings and reports from Earth Force during the Dilgar War. Like their Terran friends had learned a decade earlier, the Centauri pilots needed to grasp the subtleties of not destroying themselves while killing the enemy.

"**My Lord a** **jump point is opening!" **the navigator shouted.

"**Where away?"** Captain Arrado asked.

"**At two-seven-one sir,"** the navigator replied. That was directly off the starboard bow of the _Antharcus._

A sparkling blue jump point opened, and out of it came a pair of frigates, one older cruiser, and the hulking arrowhead shape of a _Bin'Tak_-class dreadnought. The _Bin'Tak_ dreadnought was the Narn answer to the Centauri _Octurion_ battleship. They were very new in Narn service, and Lord Roglark had never actually faced one, though he had studied the stolen schematics at length and watched battle recordings of the two that had fought at Quadrant 17. It had all of the makings of a formidable ship, if handled properly.

The jump point did not close, leaving him to believe more was to come from hyperspace shortly. The Narns were certainly not about to disappoint him: four more ships arrived; three of the older _Rongoth _destroyers, and a second _Bin'Tak _dreadnought. The four Narn cruisers that had been escorting the now-dead _Dag'Kars_ also began to close with Lord Roglark's squadron.

Lord Roglark hesitated only a moment, calculating the forces bearing down on _Antharcus_ and her three sister ships. He leaned over the Comms Officer and spoke into the pick-up to the _Valerius_, **"Captain Michelas, **_**Antharcus**_** actual here."** Lord Roglark inhaled deeply, knowing what he had to do.** "Captain, I need you to use the jump point you opened for the fighters and intercept those Narn cruisers. You need to hold them off long enough for us to deal with the dreadnoughts."** Lord Roglark knew he might be ordering Captain Michelas and the entire crew of the _Valerius _to their deaths.

Captain Michelas' voice came out of the speaker, **"I understand my Lord. We shall engage the enemy cruisers and once we finish them off, assist the command squadron with the dreadnoughts."** Lord Roglark smiled at the Captain's bravado. _Valerius_ and her crew were a Republican Reserve ship. Though Republican units were often looked down upon, Lord Roglark had learned from experience that Republican units fought bravely and well. Their lack of stature and prestige was often merely a matter of lack of patronage. Imperial Guard and exemplary House units usually garnered the headlines, along with the best equipment. Lord Roglark had long felt the Republican units were a wasted resource, one that many of his more prejudiced and pretentious colleagues were loath to use in any meaningful way. Nearly every Republican unit under his command, once they had gone through a more exacting training regimen, had fought skillfully, bravely, and professionally, often outperforming other allied House units.

Lord Roglark backed up from the Comms station as Captain Arrado stepped over. **"My Lord,"** he said, **"Some support for **_**Valerius**_**?"**

Lord Roglark could detect no rebuke in Captain Arrado's request. He nodded sharply and said, **"Captain, I would be obliged if you would tell the captains of..."** he glanced up at the tactical screen**, " **_**Duanez**_** and **_**Septus**_** to break off and assist **_**Valerius**_**."** _"Its only two __**Vorchans**__" _Lord Roglark thought, _"but anything would help."_

"**Navigator,"** Lord Roglark said, **"Bring us about to target the rear dreadnought. Comms, signal the squadron to do the same."** The navigator acknowledged the order as the Comms Officer relayed instructions to the rest of the squadron. A moment later Lord Roglark felt the gravitic engines of the _Antharcus_ shift her heading, her sister ships following suit.

The vast flank of a Narn dreadnought appeared in the viewscreen. It was painted in the newer Narn 'dazzle' style; a dark red background with alternating random black geometric shapes outlined in white. Fire from all four Centauri cruisers lanced out at the rear Narn dreadnought. Bolts and beams of blue, orange, and red momentarily obscured the dreadnought amidships.

When the glare had reduced enough to see the ship, it was a shambles. The Narn return fire from their flank was feeble at best. _"Just like always with the Narn,"_ Lord Roglark thought, _"Too much reliance on the huge boresight laser."_ The standard Narn tactical doctrine called for a straight charge ahead with little maneuver, hence the heavy boresighted laser cannon with much weaker side armament. The only problem with such a doctrine was that often the Narn were unable to perform such finely tuned evolutions as boresighting their ships. Lord Roglark, (indeed all Centauri commanders) had been able to capitalize on this Narn predicament.

The dreadnought's escorting destroyers gave their fire, but the _Rongoth_ destroyer was much like the _Thentus_ frigate: over a generation old and not really brought up to present standards of weaponry, speed, and armor. Lord Roglark and Captain Arrado watched as two of them exploded. Long-range lasers from one of the Centauri destroyer squadrons had annihilated two of the _Rongoths. _Their explosions damaged nearly every Narn ship that had just come from hyperspace.

Lord Roglark addressed the Comms Officer, **"My compliments to Commander Wallof, tell him 'well done' on the destruction of those **_**Rongoths**_**".** The Comms Officer transmitted to Commander Wallof, the senior captain in the destroyer squadron. **"Also tell him to detach half his squadron. They are to come about and assist **_**Valerius**_** while the rest stay here and assist us with the dreadnoughts**_**."**_

_Valerius_ and her two _Vorchans_ were valiantly delaying the four Narn _T'Loth_ cruisersfrom entering the main battle. Lord Roglark saw one of the Narn cruisershad stopped, either by design or damage. The _Valerius_ spat out a mass driver sphere that crashed through the motionless Narn cruiser, causing it to explode. It was a desperate and brave move. The explosion wavefront engulfed the other Narn cruisers yet _Valerius _was untouched, though _Duanez_ was caught in the outer edge.

Though _Valerius_ was giving far better than she got, it was clear she couldn't hold out for much longer. Commander Wallof's destroyers weren't quite in range yet, and now both _Duanez_ and_ Septus_ were burning hulks.

Lord Roglark was on the verge of ordering the remainder of Commander Wallof's squadron to assist, when abruptly the final hideous surprise of this long day revealed itself. Out of the sparkling depths of the still open jump point came the last guest to the party: the hulking menace of a third _Bin'Tak_ dreadnought. Lord Roglark's stomach dropped as he heard Captain Arrado growl, **"Great Maker! How many of those things do they have?"** This last dreadnought appeared fresh from some shipyard. The blood-red sunlight gleamed off the unpainted hull of the Narn dreadnought. Large welded patches were scattered across its surface, giving it a rough look.

Though it looked like it was fresh off the assembly line, its crew was competent. They were able to complete the difficult maneuver of boresighting one of Lord Roglark's squadron, the battlecruiser _Untavo_. The titanic crimson laser blasted out scoring deeply into the hull. The laser fire was closely followed by the mag gun. The mag gun was a relatively new Narn weapon. Lord Roglark and Captain Arrado had only seen it used in battle recordings. A coherent beam of white tinged with purple lanced out at _Untavo_. When the beam contacted the _Untavo,_ it broke into white tendrils that danced and writhed across her hull. Everywhere the deadly web touched, the armor was peeled back in long streaks. The dreadnought was close enough to even add fire from their weaker secondary armaments.

_Untavo_ listed to starboard, unable to withstand the prodigious amount of fire from the Narn dreadnought. Most of her running lights went out though her drives did not. Lord Roglark quickly looked at the scanners: _Untavo_ was stricken, doomed to drift off until Ardun's gravity sucked her in to a final immolation. Yet there were still life signs from nearly one hundred surviving crewmen. _"If we are victorious," _Lord Roglark thought, _"we can rescue them."_ Should they not be, Lord Roglark knew that it would be a kindness to kill them rather than leave them to the tender mercies of the Narn.

"**Bastards!"** Captain Arrado barked out. Lord Roglark looked up to the viewscreen to see what elicited the outburst. He just caught the final glorious seconds of _Valerius_ as she finally succumbed to the long odds against her. Fires burned on every deck. Long black gouges scarred her Republican paint scheme. One last _T'Loth_ was still firing, the others destroyed. Abruptly _Valerius_ exploded. As her final act the explosion engulfed her last attacker, causing the Narn to explode as well. Lord Roglark saw Captain Arrado make the sign of the Great maker across his face, his lips moving in silent prayer for the doomed crew of the _Valerius._

"**Comms," **Lord Roglark said,** "order Commander Wallof's squadron to come about again and assist us with the dreadnoughts, recall the **_**Vorchan**_** hunting groups. Signal all ships: those that can disengage return to assist the Command squadron with the Narn dreadnoughts."** Across the entire battlefield Centauri ships streaked away from their current action. Two _Vorchans_ arced over the pole of Ardun as a third came from behind the Narn dreadnoughts with two _Elutarian _bombardment destroyers following. Commander Wallof's squadron of _Sullust_-class destroyers had completed their evolution, swinging around to assist the Command Squadron.

The unfinished _Bin'Tak_ was trying to slew around to get her boresighted guns into play on _Antharcus_. She nearly did it but the cumbersome ship wasn't quite able to get around far enough. Neither of the other two dreadnoughts even came close. _"Still,"_ thought Lord Roglark, _"those awful mag guns don't need a boresight."_

Lord Roglark spoke again, **"Order **_**Wesper**_** and **_**Jalingus**_ **closer and have them use their sensors for enhanced targeting."** The graceful fan-winged shapes of two Centauri scouts edged closer to the Narn dreadnoughts. The scouts would focus their powerful sensors onto the Narn ships, then feed extremely precise targeting information to the other Centauri ships. It was sometimes a dangerous tactic as the scouts had to close the range before this ability could be used, exposing the fragile scouts to more intense gunfire.

"**Have them target both the unfinished and already damaged **_**Bin'Taks**_**,"** Lord Roglark ordered. The scouts promptly began to feed the Centauri fleet with the enhanced targeting information. The fire control computers of all of the Centauri ships firing at either of the two dreadnoughts in question were now linked to the powerful sensors of the scouts, hopefully increasing the accuracy of the guns.

"**Command Squadron and the **_**Elutarians**_** on the unfinished **_**Bin'Tak**_**," **Lord Roglark said, **"All other ships fire as you bear, either dreadnought as necessary."**

Lord Roglark turned to Captain Arrado, grinning viciously **"Captain, I want to put that dreadnought in the ground."**

Captain Arrado snapped a quick Imperial-style salute and bowed from the waist, **"As you command my Lord!"** He straightened with an eyebrow arched upward questioningly.

Lord Roglark nodded sharply saying, **"Please give the order Captain."**

Captain Arrado smiled at the honor he was being given, **"Command Squadron: all guns... FIRE!"**

_Antharcus _shuddered as she fired all her guns, her two remaining sister ships following suit. First were the brilliant scarlet beams of the battle lasers. Smaller weapons than their Narn or Earth Force counterparts, the Centauri had exchanged throughput for precision and accuracy. While Centauri lasers often did less brute damage, the damage they did cause was often more intense, cutting deeper into the vital systems contained within the enemy's hull. The Centauri had also accepted the lesser damage and shorter range of smaller lasers to gain a larger firing arc. No Centauri ship currently in service was hampered with any type of boresight.

Next were the orange bolts of the matter cannons. Though they were an ancient technology by current standards, the Centauri had perfected the charged particle system over a century ago. Matter cannons could often completely obliterate lighter targets and usually damaged even the extremely hardened hulls of the first rank capital ships as well.

Last, and certainly not least, were the blue bolts of the ion cannons. Another ancient technology, yet one that no other race used with such casual and brutal efficiency. All Centauri warships carried battery upon battery of the accurate shorter ranged ion cannons, often overwhelming enemies by their sheer volume. Not as long ranged as the battle lasers, not as penetrative as the matter cannons, still it was usually the ion cannons that carried the day. The Narn version, even the ones carried by the Cascor were only vastly inferior cousins. Neither the pulse cannons of the Earth Force nor the particle arrays of the Abbai could compare.

All of these smashed into the unfinished _Bin'Tak_ dreadnought. Its unpainted hull was ripped apart by the Centauri guns, flames jetting from every jagged hole. The scouts proved their worth as the targeting information they provided allowed the guns to do more damage, crippling the unpainted Narn dreadnought.

It returned fire. The white beam of the mag gun lanced out at _Antharcus,_ touching and writhing across the hull. Lord Roglark watched as the tendrils spread, a momentary memory of a Terran predator flitting across his mind. He was too preoccupied to remember its name, but he did remember that the predator made elaborate webs to catch prey. The display from the Narn mag gun reminded him of the images of the webs he had seen. Thankfully the mag gun blast was weaker than the one that had stricken _Untavo. "They must have lost some of the power to the gun,"_ Lord Roglark thought. The light Narn ion cannons reached out and crashed into _Antharcus_, adding a pittance of extra damage.

The _Elutarian_ bombardment destroyers fired, their ion cannon bolts smashing into the unfinished dreadnought. The bolts were quickly followed by a full spread of the lozenge-shaped white-hot ion torpedoes. The torpedoes impacted into the starboard side as a cheer broke out across the bridge. The cheer turned into a roaring victory shout as the Narn dreadnought abruptly exploded. The wavefront spread out, hitting several other Narn ships. Both frigates were engulfed, as was the final destroyer. Even the _T'Loth_ cruiser and the damaged dreadnought took some of the explosion.

The remaining Narn and Centauri warships opened fire almost simultaneously. Ion bolts, mag gun blasts, and matter cannon fire crisscrossed over the void. The damaged Narn dreadnought quickly became a burning wrecked hulk and then exploded just as had the unfinished one. The blast turned both Narn frigates and the remaining _Rongoth_ destroyer into lifeless shells. The last Narn cruiser took massive damage from the explosion and floated off adrift, vainly trying to regain control.

Lord Roglark looked on aghast as the remaining Narn dreadnought vaporized one _Vorchan_, firing a rear boresighted heavy laser cannon. The Centauri warship had had the poor luck to accidentally line itself up for the Narn. Lord Roglark made a mental note to include this unknown capability of the Narn _Bin'Tak_ dreadnought. A rear-firing laser had not been on the captured plans Lord Roglark had studied, nor had one been used at the Massacre of Quadrant 17. The remaining fire from the Narn ships was feeble at best, most of it doing no more than scorching the paint on the Centauri battlecruisers.

The final guns to speak were those of Commander Wallof's squadron. The long scarlet lances of their battle lasers carved deep gashes in the last Narn dreadnought even as their ion cannons blasted away large chunks of the hull. The precision of the Centauri lasers and fusillade of ion cannons proved fatal as they cut and burned into vital systems, setting off catastrophic internal explosions. A cascade of internal failures took place, one of which vented most of the atmosphere of the Narn ship, another destroying much of the reactor shielding, flooding the ship with more radiation than even Narns could withstand. The double failures resulted in the death of much of the crew.

Once the guns were silent, what remained was a badly damaged dreadnought flying off towards the gravity well of Ardun without enough crew to prevent its demise. _"Another grave marker for the Narn," _Lord Roglark thought. The dreadnought would quickly be captured by Ardun's gravity and pulled to the surface in a final fiery death. The last _T'Loth_ cruiser could be taken care of at leisure: with no engine power it could simply be pounded to death from a safe range by mass drivers.

It seemed a signal went out as the last Narn dreadnought went offline. Every remaining Narn ship that was able began to flee, either into hyperspace or deeper into the Ardun system. A loud victory cheer started as Captain Arrado stepped up to Lord Roglark and asked, **"My Lord, shall I give orders to pursue those retreating?"**

Lord Roglark thought a moment before replying, **"Yes Captain. Instruct any and all ships to pursue the fleeing Narn and force their surrender or destroy them."** Every Centauri in the fleet knew that no Narn would willingly surrender, they would rather accept death. He gave a vicious grin and said, **"Make sure we leave none behind."**

Several Centauri ships streaked after the retreating Narn ships. Some of the crews were treating it like a hunt, giving chase to wounded prey. Many of the Narn warships were destroyed even before they got out of sight of Ardun. The final two ships, a pair of old _Thentus _frigates, were run down and destroyed by the escorts from the Carrier Group accompanied by the last flights of fighters.

"**Captain if you would please order shuttles to get the survivors from **_**Untavo."**_ He paused to consider something then continued, **"And have those **_**Elutarians**_** take her in tow before she drifts into the atmosphere."** Within minutes shuttles could be seen flying to the stricken _Untavo_ and grappling on to rescue the remaining crew.

Lord Roglark sat down in the captain's chair. He considered calling up detailed status reports of the ships under his command, but immediately dismissed the idea. It would be a while before the final butcher's bill was known. He should be elated, and though he was happy the Narn had been defeated, his exhaustion had caught up with him. He had slept less than four hours in the last two days. But he could not sleep, at least not until the survivors had been rescued from _Untavo_ and the other stricken warships.

His musing was interrupted by the most glorious sound. Captain Arrado had begun to sing. The whole of the bridge crew had become silent at the first notes. It took only a moment for Lord Roglark to recognize the ancient song. It was "Lo, A Star Is Falling", a song sung for lost comrades-in-arms. Captain Arrado used Captain Michelas' given name, Donetan, at the proper place in the lyrics to remember the fallen.

Lord Roglark was left quite speechless. He knew Captain Arrado could sing, but had no idea he had such a tremendous voice. Some of the bridge crew had tears on their faces, captured by their own memories of lost friends and the simple unaccompanied glory of Captain Rantison Arrado's voice.

Captain Arrado had finished the final verse. As he began the final refrain he raised his hands to the bridge crew inviting them to join. A chorus of voices joined the captain for the well-known refrain, Lord Roglark's among them. As the final words rang out, it seemed to Lord Roglark that thousands, millions of voices sang, all of the Centauri soldatii that had lost a comrade since they took ship to fight the Xon.

71


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

December 4th, 2241: House Roglark estates, Centauri Prime

The Centaurum is descended from the Assemblage of Noble Advisors. Initially it was established as a delineation between those that could claim nobility and those that could not. It was decided at the time to divide it into six levels of nobility (six is considered a lucky number for the Centauri). Once the actual Centaurum building was constructed these 'levels' became know as 'tiers' ever after, with each level of nobility occupying one tier.

The first three tiers were descended directly from those families that gave the most aid during the Xon Wars. Each tier can trace its time back to one of the three generations that the wars took place: first tier to the first generation, second tier to the second generation, third tier to the third generation. The remaining tiers were those that had received their nobility by gift, or marriage, or by dint of their ability (or some say how deep their pockets proved to be).

House Roglark sits in the second tier. Though traditionally most Emperors have come from the families in the first tier, many times they have come from the second, and once even the third. To date none have come from the fourth, fifth, or sixth tier.

Being on the second tier has placed House Roglark in a position to effect events in the Republic despite their lack of an Imperial ancestor. Unlike many of the other second tier families (House Molari comes to mind), there has never been an Emperor from House Roglark. One Roglark son, Lord Antharcus Roglark, came close just over three hundred years ago. At a critical juncture in the Orieni War, he left Centauri Prime to command a large fleet in a desperate attempt to blunt the major Orieni offensive. It was assumed by many Houses, both Great and Minor, that he would be named Emperor should he be victorious.

He was indeed victorious, smashing the Orieni fleet. In proved the high-water mark for the Orieni and the remainder of the war was clearly in the Centauri's favor. The Orieni were never able to go on the offensive again. Lord Antharcus Roglark was hailed as a conqueror and savior of the Republic, but alas he did not survive the battle. His battlecruiser was last seen going to the knife with three Orieni heavy cruisers. Posthumously he was invested with the Order of Kiro, awarded the Gradicolco Laurifice Erusalum, named Hero of the Republic, and some say he now sits at the right hand of the Lord of War. His wife, Lady Terhali, was left to raise his sons, satisfied that her husband and Lord had not given his life in vain. He had told her upon his departure that the Republic was worth all any man could give.

To this day, House Roglark wears their silver braid with pride, knowing the Republic may have fallen without their ancestor's sacrifice (gold braid or trim is reserved for those Great Houses that have an Emperor in their family tree). In some ways it has engendered in them a broader view of Centauri politics and policies. Though they tend to be nationalists and traditionalists, they also tend to be Republican-men rather then Imperial-men.

The shuttle carrying Lord Jentavus Roglark launched off the flight deck of the destroyer. He had returned to Centauri Prime three weeks after the last battle at Ardun. After that battle he had swept his fleet through several of the other minor systems in the Buffer Zone, clearing out all of the Narn warships and ground forces he could find.

Once his sweep had been completed, the Imperial High Command had ordered him to halt the offensive. Emperor Turhan had offered to accept a surrender from the Kha'Ri, the ruling council of the Narn Regime. Currently there was a cease-fire in place while the Kha'Ri considered the terms of Emperor Turhan's proposal. Lord Roglark felt that despite the tremendous losses the Narn had suffered so far, it was unlikely they would surrender. He was certain that many of the Narns would continue fighting even if the only weapons they had to use were rocks and sticks, or their bare hands.

Apparently the Imperial High Command had similar feelings as well. They had recalled all theatre commanders to Centauri Prime during the cease-fire. A planning session was being convened to explore options should the Kha'Ri reject the terms of the surrender, and to consider punitive action against the Drazi for their complicity in the Massacre of Quadrant 17. The session was in two days, and Lord Roglark had arrived early to spend some time with his family.

The shuttle entered the atmosphere of Centauri Prime. It dropped down over the Sea of Namzee, then turned inward towards land. Lord Roglark glanced out the window at the blue-green crystalline water. The shuttle was just passing the yellow-sand beach. A single sharp memory invaded his musing, of playing in that surf and sand as a boy. His mother reading under the shade of a large awning, the covered double basinet of his brother and sister, servants endlessly throwing him into the waves as his little-boy shrieks of delight echoed off the dunes.

His chest ached for just a moment recalling that earlier idyllic part of his life. For him, memories were rarely dulled by the passage of time. His almost perfect memory was able to recall every detail: sight, sound, smell, even his emotions from precise moments in his life. He sometimes found himself longing for a simpler time, as it had been when he was so young.

With a heavy sigh, he put his brief melancholia away as the lands of House Roglark appeared outside of the viewport. He keyed the comms and said, **"Pilot, please slow down."** The shuttle's velocity decreased, giving Lord Roglark a better view of the holdings of his family. Vast vineyards rolled past, terraced into the low hills overlooking the orchard-covered valleys. The _antya_ vines were covered in netting, an added protection from the birds for the new fruit. "_We should have a good harvest in a couple of months," _he thought. Harvest was only the first step of the long process to turn the _antya_ into fine _brivari._

The shuttle swooped around a copse of nut-bearing trees, and the demesne of the Roglark family came into view. A rambling many-winged structure in the classical Centauri style, it sat atop a hill. Set in a defensible position, it had grown over the centuries to engulf the entire top of the hill. The oldest parts were still a keep and castle. In the days when it was initially constructed the Xon were still raiding the Centauri coastline, and a strong house was to be desired.

The shuttle pilot flew once around the structure then put down on the landing pad in front of the house. Even the landing pad was ancient, having been added centuries ago first for rotary winged craft, and then later reinforced for spacecraft.

As the shuttle touched down, he could see the House guard in a double line leading from the pad to the steps at the front door. Beyond them he could see most of the domestic staff. _"Chantra has turned out the whole household,"_ he thought. As he stepped down the short stairs to the ground, the guard came to attention and presented arms while recorded music played. Just as his booted foot touched the ground the smaller silver-trimmed blue pennant broke out over the house flagpole, letting all know the Lord was present. This display was a bit out of character; his first wife Chantra usually didn't stand on ceremony like this.

He crossed the short distance from the pad to the stairs; he could see his family at the top. Every step closer lightened his mood. He rushed past all of the servants to his waiting family. Chantra was standing there in a Roglark-blue court gown, looking demure. He didn't recognize the gown, thinking it must be something new. He grinned and swept her off her feet, arms around her waist, spinning her around in pure joy. The spicy essence of _maltrix_ filled his nostrils as he held her close. The sudden embrace elicited an exasperated **"Jentavus!" **from Chantra even as she laughed.

Lord Roglark's exuberant display and his wife's laughter seemed to be some sort of signal, and the whole crowd of domestics and soldiers broke out into a ragged laughing cheer. Lord Roglark released his wife, and was abruptly surrounded by his children. Little Trianna, his youngest, was tugging at his trouser leg, fingering the new blue seams added since being awarded the Gradicolco. He bent down and scooped her up, her nursery-length hair tickling his nose as he kissed the top of her head. His youngest son Spiricus was hugging him around his waist saying **"I missed you Papa!"** Lord Roglark held him with his other arm. He looked around and saw his oldest son and heir Erekann, seeming to have grown into a man in the six weeks since Lord Roglark had last been home_. "In two short years he will be off to the Academy,"_ he thought. Erekan was grinning with repressed glee, trying to appear cool and aloof as a proper noble should. He gave a short bow from the waist, then stepped aside and turned to bring someone into Lord Roglark's view.

Erekann pulled his younger sister out. Renetta, Lord Roglark's oldest daughter, was dressed in a court gown that matched her mother Chantra's in style and color. She smiled at him hesitantly, seemingly to be waiting for something from him. Lord Roglark quickly looked her over for something different about her. With a start he saw Renetta's head was now shaved with a gathered topknot down the back. _"She must have had her __**palomini**__ while I was at the front,"_ he thought.

Though all Centauri women shaved their heads, when they were girls they grew hair. The day a female had what was known as her 'nursery hair' cut and her head shaved marked her a girl no more. _ Palomini _was the traditional hair-cutting and head-shaving ceremony that marked a girl's passage into womanhood. It also marked her as eligible for suitors should she not already be betrothed. No particular date was chosen, each girl was unique physically and emotionally, it was up to the mother to decide. Her mother, or other suitable older female relative, in conjunction with a priestess, performed the ritual. The father had one role to perform as well, that of acceptance of her new status. Obviously, Erekann had stood in for him as was tradition, but Renetta was seeking his approval as well.

She took a hesitant step as someone prodded her forward. Lord Roglark saw his second wife, Glaianna, was propelling his daughter to him. He mentally raised an eyebrow, wondering what could have possible changed the situation here to make Glaianna try to mesh with his family in such a way. Glaianna had never tried to make things flow smoothly, a favor he often repaid in kind.

Renetta stepped forth as Lord Roglark set his other daughter down and disentangled himself from his younger son. She smiled at him again, her hands clasped nervously at the high waistline of her gown. He smiled in acceptance, holding out his arms to her. She rushed into the circle of his arms, tears of joy wetting her face. She was laughing and crying at the same time as he hugged her tight.

He released her and held her at arms length, his second wife Glaianna looking over her shoulder in a way that seemed a bit wistful. He nodded once to Renetta, then extended his arms, one to Renetta, one to Chantra and said, **"My dear ladies, shall we go inside?" **They promptly linked arms with him and walked into the house amid the populace's cheers, the rest of the family in tow.

Several hours later Lord Roglark was sitting in his bedchamber. A gas fire and subtle sconces on the walls dimly lighted the large room. He was sipping a glass of his Terran cognac while stripping off his uniform. All of the servants had been dismissed and the children were put to bed.

He was replaying the day's events through his mind, mulling over an unusual detail: apparently his second wife Glaianna had been responsible for the official-style welcome he had received. Chantra had told him that Glaianna had planned the whole event to honor him, not realizing even after all these years that he preferred not to stand on ceremony. "_Still_," he thought, "_the sentiment was considerate_." This change in Glaianna's behavior was noteworthy enough that he brought it up to his first wife Chantra.

"**So my Lady," **he said, slyly speaking to his wife Chantra through the open door to the bathing suite, **"What did you do to Glaianna to give her such a turnabout while I was gone?"**

Chantra snorted from beyond the doorway. **"Nothing I have ever done has changed her behavior before."**

Now it was Lord Roglark's turn to snort. Shortly before their second child Renetta had been born, Lord Roglark had been obligated to take Glaianna as his second wife. Glaianna had arrived, haughty and full of anger, but also full of wicked plots and devious cunning. She had crossed swords with Chantra immediately over every household matter. After some particular bit of mischief with the household, Chantra had taken her on a holiday to one of the hunting lodges in the mountains. They had left the children and most of the servants behind, and had returned after only two days. Glaianna had returned both in awe and fear of Chantra. Lord Roglark had never found out exactly what transpired between them, but Glaianna had curbed much of her scheming ways, at least where Chantra or the children were concerned. Whenever he asked Chantra, she grew coy and coquettish, saying only it was 'just something between women'.

Glaianna had been promised to his brother as a final codicil in an agreement to end a long-standing feud between House Roglark and House Carun. But before the marriage could take place, his brother Aloysien had received a True Calling to be a priest of the Great Maker. True Callings to the Great Maker cannot be disputed, and those that receive them were freed of all social, familial, and governmental obligations. The Humble Servants of the Great Maker are the only priestly order that may not take a spouse. As Lord of the House it was Lord Roglark's duty and responsibility to make good on the agreement. His own son was barely three years old, and House Roglark had no other males of suitably high station.

Glaianna was a stunning beauty by Centauri standards. Her topknot was of the rarest and most desired straw blond, her eyes the unusual shifting grey-blue color. Her tall well-formed figure and sultry contralto voice had left many a young man breathless with desire. But her older brother, the Lord of House Carun, had already been forced to break off two other betrothals before Aloysien. Her disposition and personality were so disagreeable, her tongue so sharp, her machinations so problematic, that she was quietly being called a "Handmaiden of Infilnia", in reference to the Centauri goddess Infilnia, the patron of virgins, and old maids.

Multiple marriages for Centauri males were not uncommon, should they have wealth and position. Most first marriages among the nobility were arranged by their families, often for political alliance. Many times the second wife might be married for love though not always so. In some ways, Centauri culture respected the second marriage more as it was seen as a representation of the taste of the husband. Each marriage had its own moniker: first was 'Duty', second 'Taste', third 'Desire', fourth 'Folly', and so on. Lord Roglark knew he had been incredibly lucky with Chantra. Their fathers had arranged the marriage unbeknownst to them even before her _palomini_. His father Quillan had contrived to put them together endlessly throughout their adolescence, hoping a connection, a compatibility, perhaps even a spark of desire would arise.

Quillan's plan bore a bounteous harvest. By the time of the announcement of their betrothal, the young Jentavus and Chantra had fallen deeply in love. Jentavus had promised Chantra that he would allow no other woman to bear his children, even if he was forced to marry another as his first wife. They were joyous upon the announcement of their betrothal. Lord Jentavus Roglark had kept his vow: only Chantra had borne his children. Though he had, by law, been forced to consummate his marriage with Glaianna, it had been perfunctory at best. He hadn't even removed most of his clothing. He had only allowed the First Level, made certain of birth control, and had left immediately after. She had been furious, thinking her considerable physical charms could bewitch him. When such was not the case she flew into a rage, destroying much of her sleeping suite. For quite some time she made continued attempts to seduce him, often at the most inopportune times, but he would not be swayed. They had eventually come to an agreement: he would not share her bed, but she was free to take lovers, so long as she was discreet. Lord Roglark had warned her that should she embarrass him with a lover, he would invoke the _Patrum Famillium,_ his divine right as Father of the Family, to have her executed as an adulteress. It was rarely done in modern times, but he reminded her that House Roglark was a traditionalist House. She had taken the warning to heart, and was discreet as could be.

Lord Roglark's musing over the past was broken by Chantra asking exasperatedly, **"Jentavus, are you there?"**

He turned with a start saying, **"Yes my Sweet, just deep in thought."**

She didn't reply immediately. When she did her voice was concerned, **"The war?"** she asked.

"**No, just thinking about our family,"** he said.

"**Could you please help me with these fastenings?"** she asked.

He put down his liquor and moved to the bathing suite saying, **"Of course my dear."** Chantra was struggling with the intricate buttons, hooks, and laces of her new gown. Lord Roglark was familiar with the delicate design of female court garb, and knew his wife didn't wish to damage the dress. He moved up behind her and began to help his wife out of her cumbersome clothing. He studied the convoluted fastening system, and could make no sense of it. He shrugged and dove right in.

After a few minutes of quiet cursing, they didn't seem any closer to getting the dress unfastened. He finally growled, **"Why did you dismiss the servants before you got out of this?"**

She looked over her shoulder with a sly smile and said, **"Well **_**I**_** thought that **_**you**_** might like to undress me."**

He cocked an eyebrow upwards and said, **"Oh is **_**that**_** what you were thinking?" **He began rubbing the sensitive spot all Centauri women had right at the base of the spine. Even though the layers of fabric blunted some of his ministrations, he knew they were having the desired effect when she quietly gasped.

She leaned over the vanity, resting her weight flat on her palms. **"Jentavus,"** she whispered hoarsely, **"you need to get this dress off me."**

He released her, backed up and said, "**All right, enough of this before I have to go get a sword. Lift your arms and I'll pull it over your head."** She turned around and stepped sideways, lifting her arms over her head. He knelt down and plunged his hands under the voluminous folds and layers of the dress. He felt through the layers until he found the layer closest to her skin. He started rucking all but that layer up over her hips, his hands sliding on her stockinged legs. She pulled her body down as he worked the dress up over her waist to her bosom.

They were both unprepared when the dress suddenly came off her upper body. He stumbled backwards into one of the sinks knocking cosmetics and grooming implements across the counter. Chantra ended up flopping down onto the floor, landing on her bottom.

He was about to curse again, when he saw she was giggling. Her laughter was infectious as he found himself chuckling right along at the situation. **"Well, I'm not sure **_**that**_** was what the dressmaker intended..."**

She giggled for a few moments more as she lay sprawled out on the floor. Lord Roglark thought she made quite a fetching sight: lying back on her elbows, black-stockinged legs exposed, a diaphanous Roglark-blue sleeveless chemise hugging her body. He felt his desire for her rise.

Her giggles subsided as she saw the look he was giving her. She dropped her eyes, held out her hands and said in a husky voice, **"Help me up Jentavus."**

He tossed her cumbersome dress across a chair, then leaned down and pulled her upright to a standing position. Without her shoes she stood just up to his chest. She raised her face to his, her own desire lighting the depths of her dark-green eyes. He leaned in, kissing her ready mouth. This close, her _maltrix_ perfume surrounded him in a heady cloud. She gasped again as his hands snaked around to her back, parting the folds of the silk. Her chemise, like so many Centauri female undergarments, was virtually backless.

He continued kissing her for a moment more, then abruptly swept her legs out from under her and lifted her up. She clasped her arms behind his neck as he carried her back to the bedchamber. He gently deposited her on the waiting bed. He stood and stared at her for a moment, marveling at her beauty, and again thanked the Great Maker that she was his.

She pulled the front ribbon to the chemise, allowing it to fall open. Rolling onto one side she raised her head up on one hand and said, **"Would you care to share my bed my Lord?"**

He pulled off his shirt, his desire evident. **"Eagerly my Lady,"** he said as he lay down next to her. Chantra's eyes smoldered with passion as he embraced her again, both of them falling into that timeless space known only to lovers.

Miles away, Lady Morella sat in a darkened room in the Imperial Palace. She sat before a table on which rested an intricately decorated metal bowl full of water. At rare times in her life, her seer abilities had been difficult to channel. She had learned long ago to use the bowl of water in conjunction with deep prayer and meditation to help her concentration.

After the abrupt surprise she had received weeks ago, her talent had returned but in fits and starts. It had been much the same for the few other seers she knew. They were a small select few; all known to one another, though not necessarily known at large, even by the Emperor.

She remembered the day she had received the vision that started her on her present course. She had seen a vision so clear, and so terrifying that she had to act on it. She had packed up her few belongings and booked passage to the Imperial City. She had presented herself to Lord Turhan. She had told him he would be Emperor, though he had been certain of that already. She had offered herself as his companion and wife that she would be on hand to him to help make sure the details of her vision would come to pass. In time Lord Turhan had become Emperor, and he had always followed her advice. This had been the first time her sight had been seriously disrupted since becoming Emperor Turhan's wife. During this time she had come to realize that perhaps her husband relied on her gift too much.

"_This is not the time for such regrets," _she thought. She focused her gaze to the water's surface and reached deep within for her inner sight. She was able to grasp it firmly enough to cast about her consciousness. She felt the time-stream slip over her as she began to view events. She saw the nexus point of where Lord Roglark avoided his death. It had turned to a shatter-point. So many threads of destiny had been flung sideways it was hard to concentrate enough to make sense of what was to come, a least for the immediate future. She could still see the terrifying darkness coming, looming like some vast event horizon. She could see nothing beyond that darkness though instinctively she knew there _was_ something beyond it.

At last she could see some of the near future: a dark evil thought gone was returning, and even she could not see what it might mean save death and despair. She was able to see a new line outward from Lord Roglark's avoided death. Her experience had been that Destiny would continue to try to reassert itself, even if temporarily avoided. Great and terrible things would come if he could continue to avoid his foretold death.

He stood helpless as the Narn ships closed. His guns had not been able to destroy them. Their weapons vomited forth vast amounts of fire. He was knocked to the deck as fire and explosions spread across the bridge. He staggered to his feet as the fires continued to burn. He saw Thendon lying motionless on his back, burns covering his bloodied face. Many men lay dead on the deck. He stabbed the comms button, yelling at the Chief Engineer to give him ramming speed. He felt the gravity shift as the ship swung around and bore down straight at the center Narn ship. He ordered the navigator to sound the collision klaxon. With the klaxon ululating in the distance he began to pray to the Great Maker. He closed his eyes as a terrible white light surrounded him, a light that did not warm.

Lord Roglark awoke with a start. Even though the reality had not happened that way, he continued to have the same old dream about it. He glanced down at Chantra making sure he had not awakened her. She still slept peacefully. He watched the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He felt a tingle of passion watching her, but couldn't bring himself to invade her slumber.

He flipped the bedclothes off his body and put his feet onto the thick plush carpeting. He stood and stretched, some of his joints popping and protesting. He felt the mild ache in his torso that all Centauri males experienced after a bout of vigorous lovemaking. _"Well," _he thought, _"no more of that for a day or so. I'm not as young as I used to be."_

He moved to a bureau, withdrew some clothing, and started dressing. He chose some casual civilian clothing as he planned to spend the day here on his estates with his family. He saw the servants had removed most of the black clothing, certainly on Chantra's orders. He knew she preferred to see him in other colors than his signature black. He was obligated to obey his vow to only wear black in public until the Buffer Zone was returned to the Republic, but here in the privacy of his ancestral home he was not bound by his vow.

He finished dressing as quietly as he could, and then made sure his hair was up in its usual fan. He returned to the bedside, leaned down and gently kissed Chantra's cheek. She moaned softly, smiled and opened her dark green eyes. Lord Roglark smiled in return saying, **"I am sorry my Sweet, I did not mean to wake you."**

"**You didn't wake me," **she said. Her smile turned into more of an impish grin as she added, **"I was just lazing here wondering if you were going to, ahh..."**she hesitated then continued**," **_**assert **_**your husbandly privileges again." **

He chuckled saying, **"Not much chance of that dear lady."** He clasped his arms over his torso and said, **"I fear we overexerted ourselves."**

Chantra sighed and then softly groaned as she slowly sat upright. **"Yes my love, I fear it will be the divan for me today,"** she said. She almost giggled as she added, **"I hope the servants won't be too scandalized."** For Centauri women, not sitting upright in a chair but reclining on a divan would be seen as the result of boisterous lovemaking.

Lord Roglark snorted and said, **"Damn the scandal."** Chantra swung her black-stockinged legs out from under the bed coverings and slowly stood. She still wore her filmy blue chemise, open at the front. Leering at her exposed bosom Lord Roglark said, **"But I won't be able to prevent it if you show up at the breakfast table dressed like that."**

She threw a pillow at him and said, **"I'm getting dressed you lecher."** She slipped on a robe over her near nakedness. As she walked across the chamber she put her hands to the small of her back and said, **"But I think something a little less confining will be the order of the day."** She selected something in teal from the wardrobe, and then pulled the old bell rope. The ancient bell system had been replaced centuries ago with an electronic light and chime signal to the servant's area. In moments a female servant came through the door. She quickly closed the door, allowing only a flash of the brilliant sunlight that filled the hallway behind her. She moved immediately to Chantra's side.

Lord Roglark bowed from the neck to his wife and said, **"I shall see you at breakfast my Lady."** He turned and left the bedchamber as the servant began helping Chantra out of her robe and undergarments.

He squinted at the bright sunlight in the hallway, thinking he should have his Estate Manager get some tinting for the windows. He walked briskly down a carved wood staircase to the family hall, a smaller more intimate setting than the great hall, usually reserved for family or close-relation meals. He passed several servants along the way, each of them giving him a hearty **"Good morning my Lord," **while stepping aside and bowing from the waist. He acknowledged each greeting with a smile, a nod of his head, and often a reply calling the servant by name. He was happy to be home, and found himself humming one of his favorite tunes as he crossed the swirled and polished black-white-green stone floor and entered the hall.

The rich odors of a fine Centauri breakfast greeted him as he stepped across the threshold: savory fried _ghraulugh, _porridge made of_ tempala, _fresh bread, glazed _jomich_ fruit, sweet nut-covered pastries, hashed spoo with gravy. Those at the table were mostly finished, merely lingering over final cups of hot jala or fruit juice. Everyone looked up as he entered, then they jumped up and bowed. He waved them all back down as Trianna leapt from her seat and ran to him yelling **"Papa, papa!"**

He picked her up and carried her back to the end of the table as her governess clucked and reached out to take her. Lord Roglark shook his head and carried her to the head of the table, sat down and put Trianna on his knee.

Smelling the food, Lord Roglark suddenly felt ravenous. Mostly it was because he had arisen later than normal, though his night with Chantra had contributed as well. He began piling food onto a plate, shaking his head when the servants rushed forward to serve him. He lifted the jala carafe, only to find it empty. He motioned to one of the serving girls. He was going to call her by name but realized he didn't know it. _"She must be new," _he thought. She saw his look and guessed its meaning. She dropped her eyes and said, **"Nedina, my Lord."**

He nodded and said, **"Nedina, tell the kitchen that I want some eggs to go with this, and have them send up something hot to drink." **She immediately left the room for the kitchen.

Lord Roglark was surrounded by the pleasantly benign conversation of his household. As Trianna nibbled on his pastry, he sat back and reveled in the peaceful domestic tranquility. Even the House Guards in the room joined in the happiness, laughing at a joke Erekann had just told.

The serving girl Nedina returned, bearing a tray. On the tray sat a steaming plate of eggs and a large ceramic mug. Lord Roglark's nose detected the spicy sauce used in the preparation of the eggs, and the rich smell of Terran coffee. Lord Roglark had not even known they had coffee in the house. It was a rare and expensive delicacy, yet one he savored whenever he had the chance. He wondered if Chantra had purchased it as a surprise for him, or perhaps it was a gift from his friend Admiral Doyle.

Lord Roglark's musing on the origin of the coffee was interrupted by a loud crash. The serving girl Nedina had collapsed and was convulsing on the floor. The crash of the tray was followed by chaos as servants and guards burst into noise and activity. Lord Roglark jumped up, passing his youngest child to her governess. **"Get Trianna and Spiricus to safety,"** he ordered two guards. Both were familiar with the procedures Lord Roglark had put into place. In times when he ordered his family to safety they had a special area to occupy, but not where one an assassin might expect: the training gymnasium. Only one hallway led to it, and as weapons would sometimes be used there, it could be locked down quite easily. One House Guard took both governesses by the arm as the other led the way, producing a break-down ion carbine.

Two other Guards were trying to restrain the serving girl. Lord Roglark heard some of the females crying, including his daughter Renetta. He dropped to the floor with the two Guards and tried to inspect the convulsing girl. Her eyes were rolled back in her head, and pink-tinged foam was coming from between her lips. Her breath had an odd odor leading Lord Roglark to only one conclusion, one that a Guard spoke out loud, **"Poison!"**

"**Go see to Lady Chantra and Lady Glaianna's safety," **he ordered the final Guard. The serving girl's convulsions had dropped off to mere twitches and jitters, and the foam seemed to have stopped. The Guards were able to easily restrain her now.

Lord Roglark felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see his son Erekann. He told him, **"Find Casamir and have him lock down the estate. The assassin may still be on the grounds."** Casamir was the Estate Manager, and a damn good one. He served Lord Roglark well as Estate Manager and Chatelaine since the death of Lord Roglark's father Quillan. If the assassin were still on the estate, Casamir would find him.

Erekann nodded and turned to leave the room. The door opened before him as the House Chiurgeon rushed in, one of Renetta's ladies-in-waiting in tow. As Erekann dashed out, the Chiurgeon knelt down beside the now almost motionless serving girl. He snapped some protective gloves over his hands, and then sampled the pink-tinged foam that still was in the corner of the girl's mouth. He sniffed it, then shook his head and clucked. He immediately unlimbered and opened his medical case.

"**What is it Doctor?"** Lord Roglark asked.

The Chiurgeon said, **"**_**Mystong**_**, my Lord." **Lord Roglark knew _mystong_ was a bitter-tasting, potent neurotoxin that had to be either ingested or injected. Lord Roglark knew that it was almost universally fatal to Centauri men, the poison working in conjunction with male hormones. It was rarely used not so much because it was hideously expensive and very difficult to procure, but also because it left obvious evidence. The poison lasted for quite some time in a dead victim. 

The Chiurgeon confirmed Lord Roglark's memory of the poison by saying, **"Were she not so young, and female, she would most likely be dead my Lord."** He withdrew a hypodermic gun and loaded some sort of medication into it. He then instructed the Guards, **"Hold her tightly, if this antidote works she will convulse violently again."** He put the gun to her neck and squeezed the trigger.

True to his word, Nedina's back arched and her body began to thrash about. The two Guards and the Chiurgeon held her down until abruptly the spasms stopped. Nedina hung limply in the Guards' arms as the Chiurgeon felt for her pulse. He sighed and smiled saying, **"We have saved her but she must be gotten to the infirmary quickly."** He looked askance at Lord Roglark saying, **"May I have use of these two my Lord?"** pointing to the Guards.

"**You may have this one until others arrive," **he replied, pointing to the one holding Nedina's shoulders. The Guard stood, hefting the serving girl up into his arms. The Chiurgeon glanced around, and then took the ceramic mug and a small sample of the scattered eggs, placing both in separate plastic bags. **"How did you know to come to the family hall?"** Lord Roglark asked.

The Chiurgeon smiled as he got to his feet, gesturing to the lady-in-waiting. **"Your son sent that young woman to fetch me my Lord, saying someone had been poisoned in the family hall,"** he replied.

Lord Roglark climbed to his feet as well thinking, _"Well done my son!" _A large group of House Guards then trooped into the room and saluted Lord Roglark. The subaltern in charge said, **"Casamir sent us my Lord. He says the estate is locked down and a search has commenced for the assassin." ** The subaltern turned to his men, detailing several saying, **"With your permission my Lord: Escort Madam Renetta to Ladies Chantra and Glaianna and stay there until the 'All clear'."** The Guards saluted, then took a red-eyed Renetta and her small entourage out of the room.

Lord Roglark dismissed the remaining servants and the Chiurgeon and the Guard carrying Nedina. **"Send a report when you have ascertained how the girl was poisoned instead of me,"** he said to the Chiurgeon. The Chiurgeon bowed then left. Once everyone else was gone save the newly arrived Guards, Lord Roglark moved towards the door.

The subaltern looked uncomfortable as he stepped into Lord Roglark's path. He saw the anger rise in his Lord's eyes. **"My Lord, forgive me but Casamir asks that you remain here until the assassin has been captured, or he can be sure he is gone."** Lord Roglark's anger evaporated as he realized the wisdom of the request. _"Knowing what I know about me, if I were trying to kill Lord Jentavus Roglark_, _I might use this poisoning attempt to flush me out into the open for the true killing strike." _ He heavily sat down at the table as the Guards took up position around the room. Lord Roglark's ravenous hunger returned, though he had little desire to eat. Bowing to the physical, he ate some food from the table and waited for a report of the assassin's capture or escape.

He did not have to wait long. He had barely finished his joyless meal when Casamir himself gave the proper coded knock and entered the room. He had mud on his boots and a shallow cut across the back of his right hand. Lord Roglark stood to greet him. Casamir bowed and said **"My Lord the assassin is captured."** He then dropped down on one knee saying, **"My Lord, please forgive my failure in this lapse of security."**

Lord Roglark grasped his shoulder and said, **"Old friend, there is no cause for blame. We had all thought these direct attacks were a thing of the past."** Though both Major and Minor Houses often worked against each other, outright physical attacks, assassinations, open warfare between Houses usually no longer occurred. It was much more subtle now than in decades past, owing mostly to the influence of Old Emperor Peraini and his successor Emperor Turhan. Obviously, someone had felt justified in direct action. Casamir rose as Lord Roglark asked, **"My family?"**

Casamir smiled and said, **"I have given the 'All clear'. Your family has been moved to their private suites." **He glanced sidelong at Lord Roglark adding, **"Erekann acted quickly and wisely. He serves my Lord well."** He said the last with a certain amount of pride. Erekann was the first Roglark son he had trained in the arts of Centauri nobility.

"**Indeed he does,"** Lord Roglark agreed.** "I am very proud of the man he becomes as every day passes."** He stared off, remembering his own youth. He shook his head to clear it then said, **"Come Casamir, show me where you have the assassin." **Casamir bowed then led out Lord Roglark. The subaltern and the remaining House Guards fell into step behind them.

The small group tramped down a couple of flights of stairs before entering the dimly lit corridor that went to the underground holding cells. In times past these rooms and chambers had been used to punish enemies, extract information from spies, and in general to detain life. Though House Roglark considered itself a very traditionalist House, in this day and age there were far more effective ways than torture to harm an enemy or disrupt his plans.

They reached the end of a corridor. Casamir pointed to a door. Lord Roglark following stepped up to the door and looked through the peephole.

The room was spare, with a simple table, cot, and several chairs. One House Guard stood inside, his ion rifle unslung and pointed at the assassin. The assassin was not much to look at, typical of his breed: nondescript, nothing to call attention to himself. He wore a vineyard worker's tunic and trousers, both covered in a fair amount of mud. He had the shorter hair of the lower classes in a shade of dark brown. His eyes were brown, the left one sporting a large bruise. He looked sullen and angry. Both hands were chained to the table, and both legs chained to the chair. Lord Roglark could see the protrusion of a polymer mouth bit. The bit prevented the assassin from using a poison tooth. Unfortunately the bit also prevented the assassin from speaking.

Lord Roglark knew that the assassin could very well have a poison tooth. In the past it was not uncommon. He couldn't risk not finding out who sent him. He needed to know who his enemy was.

He leaned back from the peephole and said to Casamir, **"Send for Trajus. I want this handled quickly."** Casamir nodded grimly and dispatched the subaltern and his squad to summon Trajus, the strongest of House Roglark's telepaths.

Lord Roglark and Casamir sat in one of the other rooms for close to half-an-hour. During that time a message had come from the Chiurgeon saying that the mug of coffee had been poisoned. Apparently the serving girl Nedina had sipped the coffee on her way from the kitchens. She had succumbed to temptation and had nearly paid with her life, though inadvertently saving her Lord.

They heard a group of men coming down the hallway and left the room. The subaltern was escorting a short Centauri man, Trajus, one of House Roglark's telepaths. His ornate fashionable clothing was of the finest cut and fabric, his short fan of hair pomaded as large as his station allowed. His custom tailored boots clacked on the stone floor of the hallway as he was chatting with one of the Guards. He stopped upon seeing Casamir and Lord Roglark. He bowed deeply from the waist to Lord Roglark saying, **"Greetings my magnanimous Liege. My mind is greatly relieved to see you were unharmed by this attack. I am pleased I can help identify the foul cur that would so churlishly raise a hand against you."**

Though flowery and overblown, Lord Roglark knew that was no false statement. Trajus was extremely loyal to the House. He was a very pampered vassal that was rarely called upon to use his skills or expose himself to possible violence. But when needed he acted with dedication and drive for Lord and House. Lord Roglark had no doubt if the identity of the assassin's employer could be discovered, Trajus would extract it.

"**I need this information Trajus,"** Lord Roglark said.

Trajus nodded saying, **"By your command my Liege**." An unholy gleam appeared in his eyes as he said, **"He will reveal everything to me my Liege."** Trajus raised an eyebrow and said, **"And after?"**

Lord Roglark saw the gleam had not left Trajus' eyes. Though he would not willingly resign someone to Trajus' tender mental mercies, this assassin had known the stakes when he came here. He said, **"I care not what happens to him once I have what I need."**

The gleam in his eyes was reflected in his smile. Trajus bowed to Lord Roglark again and said, **"Thank-you my Liege."** He then turned and went into the room where his prey awaited.

The assassin looked away from the Guard as the door opened. He expected to see the Lord he was to have slain, perhaps to order another round of beatings. Instead a shorter Centauri male entered the room. His hair may have indicated a less-than-noble class, but the cut, materials, and richness of his clothing screamed vast wealth. He sat down across from the assassin, an unhealthy grin on his face. He laced his manicured fingers together and said, **"I am Trajus Comilen Ordillo. I have bonded my life, my wealth, and my sacred honor to House Roglark, against whom you have chosen to strike." ** His grin changed to a pitying smile as he shook his head. ** "Much to your chagrin, I shall be conducting your interrogation today."**

The assassin panicked as he realized Trajus must be a telepath. The assassin tried to pull back from him but the restraints prevented it. Trajus chuckled and said, **"It won't matter if I cannot touch you, slime. My abilities go far beyond that."**

The assassin found his gaze snared by the telepath. He began to fall into the eyes; so dark they were almost black. He was being pulled in, the eyes now a vast and frightening event horizon. What would happen when he passed the edge he did not know, but instinctively feared.

He tried to put up mental blocks as he had been taught: recitation, repetition, and resolve. He felt the telepath's hold slip. His descending slide to the event horizon slowed and then stopped. Trajus projected amusement at the assassin, then attacked again.

The assassin felt the tendrils of the telepath's mind wrap around him. Like dozens of tentacles, it wrapped around his psyche, trying to drag his mind into the maw at the root of the tentacles. He tried to keep up his mental defenses, pushing back against the attempt. He could hear Trajus whisper from all around, **"Yes, you **_**must**_**resist me! I so much enjoy it more when you fight me!"**

The tentacles became stronger and more numerous, dragging the assassin closer to the event horizon. He was trying to scramble away, kicking and clawing the entire way. He felt excitement from Trajus, a growing sense of joy and glee the harder he struggled. He was panicked, screaming and gibbering, trying anything to prevent his final consumption by whatever hideous darkness lay beyond that event horizon. He felt the black worms of the telepath's mind crawl over then through him, break his last hold on reality. With one final shriek of despair, he was pulled into the blackness. Horror upon horror crashed through his broken mind, and all he knew was laid bare. All that he was, all that he might be, all he had hoped and feared was exposed for a brief instant. Then the might of what lay at the center of the event horizon crushed him, collapsing him down in agony and terror, until at last he was nothing.

The House Guard in the detention room saw the assassin clench his body against the restraints. Trajus had not moved since he sat at the table, just smiled that disturbing smile. The assassin stayed clenched, quivering with every muscle taut. A small trickle of blood leaked out of one eye socket, like a single tear.

Abruptly the assassin collapsed, his body slumping over onto the table. The Guard heard him let out a pent up breath, then resume breathing shallowly. His eyes were wide with much of the whites showing, as if staring at some unimaginable horror. After a moment they returned to their normal size before slowly going blank.

Trajus pushed back from the table, his chair scraping across the floor. He was almost panting, as if in ecstasy. His eyes glittered as he nodded to the Guard and opened the door to leave the room. He turned back and gave the limp assassin one last look. Trajus daubed at a drop of saliva in the corner of his lips. **"Exquisite,"** he whispered, then stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him.

The House Guard wrinkled his nose at the pungent odor in the room: the assassin had lost control of his bladder and was dripping on the floor. The Guard checked his timepiece thinking, _"Less than seven standard minutes...Trajus must have set a new record."_

With a bounce in his step and a sparkle in his eyes, Trajus walked into the room where Lord Roglark sat. Casamir had left for other duties. Lord Roglark stood as Trajus bowed deeply to him. **"What news Trajus?"** Lord Roglark asked.

Trajus smiled to his Lord saying, **"My Liege I have surveyed the assassin's mind and determined who sent him, and why."**

Lord Roglark sat back down and said, **"Then sit and tell me what you have gleaned: who is responsible for this attack?"**

Trajus sat opposite Lord Roglark. On other occasions he might have bantered with his Lord, but he knew Lord Roglark was in no mood today. **"My Liege, the assassin is a servant of Felix Tesu the Lesser, only son of the late Lord Tesu."**

Lord Roglark sat back in his chair. It all made sense now. Lord Tesu had committed suicide to prevent his family from being proscribed, his assets seized, and his House dissolved. Clearly his son, Felix the Lesser, has chosen to lay the blame for the suicide at Lord Roglark's feet. _"Perhaps I share some portion of the blame,"_ Lord Roglark thought.

Still, it was Lord Tesu's utter incompetence that had doomed over two hundred thousand Centauri to death, destroyed an entire fleet, and allowed the Drazi to even now still threaten Quadrant 17. That crime was Lord Tesu's alone, and one for which he deserved to pay the ultimate price. Taking his own life had spared Lord Tesu and his House many of the more severe punishments the Centaurum had considered. Even with Tesu's death, the Centaurum had recommended to the Emperor that House Tesu should be dissolved (there were not enough votes to secure it through the Centaurum alone). Emperor Turhan had made no decision as of yet.

Without looking up Lord Roglark said, **"Thank-you Trajus, your help was most welcome. Report all else you have discovered to Casamir."**

Trajus took the statement for a dismissal. **"I live but to serve, my Liege,"** he said as he stood. He bowed deeply from the waist as Lord Roglark waved for him to go.

Lord Roglark sat listening to Trajus walk away. An attack of this sort required retaliation, but nothing precipitous. _"Something to permanently remove House Tesu as a threat,"_ he thought, _"Something the Lesser Tesu will never expect."_ Lord Roglark sat and considered what might be his most subtle form of attack.

86


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

December 7th, 2241: Kha'Ri Council Chamber, Narn Homeworld

Before the Centauri came, the Narn homeworld was a lush world. Misty forests, verdant jungles, numerous lakes and small seas were scattered across the surface. The grasslands and prairies were so rich, and the harvests so bounteous, that hunger was nearly a thing of the past. The Narn people were deeply philosophical after a series of great thinkers had caused a sort of cultural revolution centuries previous. They had kept to the land and had not advanced very far with what technology they had. Their homeworld was rich enough that the normal wars over resources, common in other cultures, simply never happened.

This is not to say that they did not understand many modern concepts: they were aware that their homeworld was not the center of the universe, that the star in their system was one of many, and that other alien species existed. A millennium previous a race from the stars had come to their world, those that would later be known as the Ancient Enemy. The Narns were by and large left alone, the alien race initially having little use for them.

Eventually the aliens had need of the hardy Narns. They approached the Narns claiming to be gods, and demanded fealty in the form of the Narns surrendering some of their number to labor on the 'gods' behalf. Many were prepared to help these new gods, as they were promised great reward, both individually and as a species.

But a segment of the Narn population, what they called mindwalkers, (and what other races would call telepaths) sensed duplicity in the aliens. They declared the aliens deceivers and false gods, unworthy of the help of the Narn people. With the help of the mindwalkers, the great Narn leader G'Quan and his comrade G'Lan rallied their people to fight the invaders and expel them. These aliens were fighting a desperate war somewhere else, and could ill afford to waste more time with the Narns. After causing a great deal of destruction, including killing every Narn mindwalker, the Ancient Enemy fled the Narn homeworld.

The experience led to an awakening for the Narns. They gave birth to generations of thinkers and philosophers, starting with G'Quan and G'Lan. They revered these thinkers, and eventually the great philosophers replaced their ideas of 'gods' (the Ancient Enemy had come posing as 'gods' as well). Eventually a school of thought came forth for every group in the Narn culture. They eschewed the trappings of technology and wealth. They built their small cities and homesteads in conjunction with nature rather than in spite of it.

And so for thirty generations the Narn lived as they had. They mourned the loss of their mind-walkers and followed whatever pursuits their hearts desired. They looked to the stars, knowing that others were there, but they did not allow it to taint their way of life or their way of thinking.

When visitors came again from the stars, the Narn were wary. These that came looked much less alien, claiming to be men much like the Narn only having technologies about which the Narn could only dream. They called themselves Centauri.

These Centauri told the Narn of a vast galaxy, peopled by multitudes of others. They offered to bring the Narn along, to educate them, to make them partners in the galaxy at large in exchange for the rights to work the land, and take ores and minerals for which the Narn had no use. Of course the Centauri would be willing to employ the Narn for such work.

The Narn rebuffed the newcomers, saying they were content to live their lives as they had for centuries. The Centauri shook their heads in disbelief, even as they secretly ground their teeth in anger. They put up a good face, smiling in defeat of their offers. They packed up their ships and left, leaving the Narn in their idyllic bliss.

But the richness of the Narn homeworld was too great a lure for the Centauri. They returned months later in force, sweeping down from the skies like angry demons. Their starships destroyed the few cities, even as their armies swept up the population. Unlike the Ancient Enemy, the Centauri were there for conquest, and conquer they did.

The Centauri took what they wanted, forcing the hapless Narn to help in the rape and pillage of their world. Whatever resources could be gleaned from the planet, the Centauri collected with a vengeance. The Narn homeworld was devastated with vast tracts of it being turned lifeless and foul. The Narn were a hardy race, with extremes of cold, heat, or radiation bothering them little. Millions of them were shipped off-planet to toil away in harsh and unsafe conditions for their Centauri overlords.

This continued for close to a century, with three generations of Narns being born into slavery. The Narns endured under the lash of the Centauri neural whips, but they never forgot that once they were free. Within the nameless multitudes, a core of leaders formed that planned revolt from the Centauri: the Kha'Ri (which means 'The Voicing'). Initially they worked by word of mouth, never preaching disobedience, only a furious patience. They coordinated Narns to collect equipment, weapons, cast-off items that the rich and decadent Centauri would never miss. The Narn followed the Kha'Ri's every word. After seeing what hideous things happened to those that resisted the Centauri, the ideas of the Kha'Ri seemed the best way to regain their freedom, and to exact revenge on the hated Centauri.

Secrecy was paramount, lest the Centauri awaken and put down the rebellion before it even started. Many times the Kha'Ri gave orders to kill off traitors (what the Terrans called 'Quislings') within the midst of the slave population. The faithful followers of the Kha'Ri did as they were asked.

Nearly a century after the Centauri had first come to the Narn, the Kha'Ri judged the time would never be better. A great deal of clandestine equipment had been built or procured. The Narn populace was primed, their hatred, anger and frustration simmering at just the right level. Some outsiders say the Kha'Ri needed to call for the revolution at that time as the patience of their people was at an end. Whatever the truth may be, across the secret transmitters of the Kha'Ri the call went out to every revolutionary cell: rise up and destroy the hated Centauri overlords.

The Uprising (as it came to be known) was spectacularly successful. The Centauri had grown complacent with their slave race. It had become fashionable to keep 'civilized' Narn slaves in household positions, allowing the Narns to kill important Centauri officials, often in their own homes. With the natural indolence that comes with vast wealth and power, the Centauri had turned over many of the tedious technical tasks to Narn slaves. That put the Narns into positions that allowed them to seize vast amounts of Centauri ships and space-faring equipment, once their overseers had been slain. It also allowed them to sabotage vital Centauri systems that had been put into place to quell just such a slave uprising.

The initial stages were a bloodbath as the Narn gave vent to their hatred on a massive scale. Every Centauri that was in the way was ruthlessly eliminated, no matter their age or gender. The wholesale slaughter led to massive reprisals by the Centauri, which in turn led to even more vicious atrocities by the Narn.

It has been said no revolution can succeed without outside help. Initially the Narn received outside aid from the Abbai and Hyach, both champion races of freedom and peace. But they soon withdrew their assistance as the atrocities committed by the Narns escalated. The Drazi clandestinely sold them arms, as did any number of other minor races, mostly to help bring the Centauri as low as possible.

But in reality, the greatest outside help for The Uprising came from the Centauri themselves. In a hideous example of how Centauri politics worked, many Centauri Houses unwittingly aided the Narn by falling upon their enemies. Many feuds, long-standing arguments, even personal slights were resolved amongst the Centauri Houses during The Uprising, with the Narns often reaping the rewards.

Eventually the Centauri Republic retreated, leaving behind vast amounts of equipment and wealth. The Narns were finally masters of their own destiny. The devastation on their homeworld was immense. Despite the casualties of The Uprising, there were more Narns alive than could be easily supported by resources remaining on the homeworld. Nor were the Narns satisfied to simply have the Centauri removed; they wanted them done to death in the most painful ways possible.

An ancient Terran philosopher said it best perhaps, "Battle not with monsters lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze long enough into the abyss, forget not that the abyss gazes also into you." In their ruthlessness to eradicate the Centauri, they adopted their enemy's tactics of terror against them. In their quest to care for their people, the Narn rolled over various minor races that had been overlooked by the Centauri conquest, thus consuming their worlds and forcing the inhabitants into servitude for the grand crusade. In their desire to carry the war to their former overlords, the Narn struck out with their dreams of empire in all directions, conquering worlds to gain resources and advantage to strike against the Centauri. In their hatred, the Narn became that which they beheld, and the abyss had entered into them.

The Kha'Ri was in emergency session for the tenth time in as many days. The war had been going badly. After the first initial gains against the Centauri at Quadrant 17, things had gone poorly. They had been arguing over the offer from Emperor Turhan of the Centauri Republic, what all recognized as terms of surrender for the Narn Regime.

Against all estimations and assumptions, the Centauri had united into a cohesive force. The ultra-nationalist Vorchan faction was in ascendancy, having gained power and shunting the more peaceful Basif faction aside. They had found a warlord in the poster boy for the Vorchan faction, the Assassin of Kotac, the thrice-damned Lord Jentavus Roglark.

He had started with his speech before the Centaurum condemning Lord Tesu the Governor of Quadrant 17, which led to the ruination of their supply depot at Kotac. He narrowly escaped death at Ardun, then returned the following day to Ardun with the final insult of the destruction of three dreadnoughts. With nearly every move Roglark the Assassin had thwarted almost all of the Narn aims for the war. It might take more than twenty years to rebuild those losses in warships alone.

Warleader G'Sten raised his voice again, trying to bring some calm, **"Citizens! Citizens please! We must discuss this matter in a more productive manner!"** Citizen Malroth, carrying the temporary rank of Warcaptain, stood and tried to shout down the dissenters as well. Many of the Narns in the room quieted down amid a great deal of grumbling. G'Sten shook his head sadly at the division within the room. _"We are not united,"_ he thought for at least the thousandth time since this most recent war with the Centauri began.

Warcaptain Malroth stayed standing, silently fuming as the room quieted somewhat. His plans for taking much of the Buffer Zone had been nearly perfect. Had he and G'Sten been listened to, all of it would be under Narn control, especially the holy ground of Ardun. That was what angered Malroth the most: the fleet had been unable to secure the strategic grave-shrine of Ardun. **"Citizens," **he shouted, **"we must talk about what answer we shall give Turhan at the deadline in two days!"**

"**Talk about your failure you mean!"** Na'Far shot back.

Malroth swung around on Na'Far, his hand twitching towards where the dagger should be on his belt. _"No weapons in council,"___he remembered. That had been a change in the Kha'Ri after The Uprising. **"The only failure was in trusting **_**YOU**_** to put our people before yourself Na'Far!" **Malroth barked. Clenching both fists, he shook them while yelling, **"Was your grab for glory at Quadrant 17 worth it Na'Far?"**

Na'Far sat back in his chair, a beatific smile on his face. **"The Centauri colony was destroyed,"** he said dismissively.

Malroth's fury rose to apoplectic levels as he shouted back, **"But at what cost? By striking Quadrant 17 precipitously you alerted the Centauri to an offensive in the making!" ** Malroth began ticking off Na'Far's shortcomings on his fingers, **"You roused them to life! You gave them a single thing to rally around!" You gave the Vorchan faction ammunition against their opposites the Basifs!" ** He shook his head sadly. **"You gave the thrice-damned Roglark his opening to eliminate the fool Tesu and assume command of the entire front."**

Ha'Rok, a comrade of Na'Far, leaned forward and spoke in his defense, **"Destroying Quadrant 17 was in the war plan."**

"**At the end of next year you druval!" **Malroth yelled. There were a few nervous laughs at the insult 'druval', it indicating an animal bereft of sense.

The war plan had called for much more than simply regaining the Buffer Zone. Once much of the Zone was regained, (Ardun being the most strategically important) it could be used for forward bases, making it easier to attack other Centauri colonies like Quadrant 17. More importantly the forward bases in the Buffer Zone would allow them to follow up on attacks to the Centauri interior. Supply lines would have been shorter, flank or rear attacks from the Centauri would have been harder for them to execute with both edges of the front touching space controlled by powerful governments that were at best neutral. Some, like the Drazi, were actively hostile. Strategically Ardun was the key, and as such the Centauri fought hard for it. Through Ardun went many jump routes for the remainder of the Buffer Zone, the Narn Regime, Epsilon Eridani, and the only ones into the Centauri Republic from the Zone.

Na'Far waved away the statement and insult saying, **"Warcaptain Sh'Tak approved the attack."** There was a great deal of murmuring over that declaration, much of it laudatory. Malroth saw the hero worship directed at Na'Far by some of the Kha'Ri, especially the ones that felt the war should be handled more aggressively.

Not liking what he saw from his fellow Kha'Ri, Warleader G'Sten jumped to Malroth's aid saying, **"He gave his approval only verbally?" **

A brief flash of irritation swept Na'Far's face as he said, **"He gave it verbally to me."**

"**Strange,"** G'Sten mused out loud, **"that he did not send word, or log the orders with the War Command. Do you know why?"**

Na'Far snorted saying, **"I would not presume to know the Warcaptain's mind."**

"**A shame we cannot ask him." **Malroth said. Warcaptain Sh'Tak had not survived the attack at Quadrant 17.

Looking pious Na'Far said, **"Yes, may his spirit rest in peace."**

Bowing their heads, many of the Narns replied in unison, **"May his spirit rest in peace."**

Another member of the Kha'Ri, Ambassador G'Kar, leaned forward and said, **"Yes, a pity we could not ask him why he deviated so drastically from the approved war plans."**

Malroth was somewhat surprised G'Kar had spoken: G'Kar was not a typical supporter of his. _"However," _he thought, _"G'Kar is often an opponent of Na'Far."_

Na'Far shrugged saying, **"Perhaps he felt the plan was too tame."** There was a quick murmur of assent from some of those at the table. 

"_The plan would have worked,_" Malroth thought. When composing his war plan over a year ago, Malroth's in depth research showed many things in favor of the Narn Regime: that the Centauri had no stomach for another war; that the more peaceful Basif faction was in ascendancy in the Centaurum (and that they would probably be willing to make more concessions); that Emperor Turhan would have allowed much to go unanswered in regards with the Buffer Zone; that the main neutral power, the Earth Alliance, would most likely have stayed neutral despite their friendship with the Centauri. Many dreams of the Narn people would be within their grasp including securing the graveshrine of Ardun.

But all of that changed with the Quadrant 17 debacle. Na'Far had trooped off to the Centauri colony with a large fleet commanded by Warcaptain Sh'Tak, (nearly a quarter of Malroth's total fleet), completely ignoring the central war plan. He had the prestige to pull off such a move, even more so now since the populace had seen his smashing of the Centauri as bold. Only those in the War Command had actually known how the operation had been an empty victory (at least as far as long-term plans had been concerned).

Na'Far smiled as he went on, **"After all, Quadrant 17 was a spectacular victory."**

Malroth slapped the table with his open hand growling, **"A victory that has only helped the Centauri!"**

That set the table to grumbling again. G'Kar spoke up again saying, **"As we all know, helping the Centauri is no mystery to Na'Far."** Na'Far and his supporters immediately jumped to their feet, trying to shout down the old accusation of Na'Far having been a Centauri collaborator. G'Kar's voice could be heard over the din, **"Perhaps he was pining for his Centauri paramour."**

"**For the thousandth time, I never touched that bitch Lady Schiaze!" **Na'Far screamed exasperatedly at G'Kar.

G'Kar's face assumed a look of innocence as he said, **"Who said anything about **_**Lady**_** Schiaze?"**

Na'Far looked stunned for a moment at the suggestion, then a dull mask of rage dropped over his face. His hands balled into fists as he launched himself across the table at G'Kar. Na'Far's supporters immediately grappled with him, trying to prevent the attack. They eventually got him seated again amid catcalls from the room at large. Malroth saw disappointment briefly flicker across G'Kar's face. As G'Kar shifted in his seat, Malroth caught a glimpse of him slipping what appeared to be a thin blade under a wristband. _"How interesting,"_ Malroth thought. Somehow G'Kar had hidden a weapon from the scanners. The blade had been a dull, non-reflective black. Malroth wondered what it had been made of as the scanners detected metals, crystals, and ceramics to prevent weapons from being carried into the council chambers.

Malroth wondered if the blade had been made of Terran carbon-fiber. He knew that they manufactured the hideously expensive material and marketed its ability to defeat metal sensors. Perhaps G'Kar's penchant for bedding Terran women, and his post as ambassador to Earth, had made it possible for him to acquire just such a weapon. G'Kar caught him staring and inclined his head briefly in acknowledgement.

As the room quieted down, Malroth regretted that the session had degenerated into resurrecting the specter of past wrongs. It had been rumored that Na'Far had had an unusually...close relationship with the Centauri Lady Schiaze before The Uprising, even though Narn and Centauri were entirely incompatible for sexual relations. Malroth knew the rumor had started because somehow the Lady Schiaze and her personal entourage had escaped The Uprising, even though Na'Far had been her personal house slave. To add further fuel to the fire of rumor, Na'Far had also come into a rather large amount of personal wealth by the time The Uprising was over. Malroth knew many others long suspected that Na'Far had simply accepted a bribe from the Lady Schiaze for safe passage. Even with all of the brutality involved with the occupation, House Schiaze was known as a rather benign House by both Centauri and even Narn standards. For many, it was not inconceivable that a young Na'Far had succumbed to a moment of weakness.

"_We all have things we would like to forget about that time,"_ Malroth thought. He had shown weakness himself during those long blood-drenched years of fighting. Once, Malroth had another name, one he did not mention. He had left his old name behind after his own moment of weakness caused the death of those undeserving.

In command of his own revolutionary cell, he had fought long and hard for Narn freedom. After nearly two years The Uprising was beginning to wind down as more of the Centauri fled rather than fight. Many Narn, especially those that had not had harsh masters, were tired of the bloodshed. They wanted nothing more than to return to Narn and begin rebuilding. Zha'Gan, (as Malroth was called then), was one of those tired of the slaughter. His own moment of weakness stemmed from his battle fatigue. His group had found an enclave of Centauri that had been on the edge of the fighting. They were in a high, well-defended spot in some low mountains. The other Centauri were abandoning the planet, and holding the spaceport to do it, just on the other side of the range. The enclave had an old female Narn servant with them who was sent out to parley a free passage arrangement. The Centauri simply wanted to leave to make it to the spaceport, taking nothing of what they had horded with them. Weary of the constant killing, he gave his word to let them just go, so long as the Centauri of this enclave set their Narn slaves free.

The Centauri commander set the few remaining slaves free, and set out as quickly as he could with his group to the spaceport. He had many non-combatants with him and the going was slow enough to be witnessed. Some of Zha'Gan's/Malroth's men had become incensed that he had let the Centauri go free, and in the middle of the night set out to kill them. He realized what they were going to do, and quickly left with two close friends to intercept them from ambushing the fleeing Centauri.

But he was too late. Though his cadre overtook the other vengeful Narn ahead of the Centauri group, in the darkness they set off the ambush. The noise alerted the Centauri who were armed and ready, perhaps suspecting just such an attack. In the dark of the mountain pass a vicious three-way firefight erupted of which Zha'Gan/Malroth, though wounded, was the sole survivor. As he limped and staggered back to his camp, he came across the Centauri commander. He was barely clinging to life, but to Zha'Gan's/Malroth's experienced eyes, not for very long. The Centauri commander recognized him in the predawn light, and spit out one word as he expired: _**malroth**_. It was a Centauri swear word describing a type of demon known as a deceiver and an oath-breaker. It was used in Centauri culture to describe the worst sort of villain, but one who is always the last man standing at the end. Looking about at the carnage of his men, and those that had trusted his word, Zha'Gan took the name Malroth as a symbol of his failure.

To add final insult to his perceived failure, a bit of a legend grew up around his change of name. It came to be believed that he had _deliberately_ set up the Centauri enclave, and had personally led the ambush himself. Supposedly the Centauri had cursed at him with their dying breath, calling him The Malroth, (the deceiving demon).

The notoriety he gained from the ambush did have at least one positive side effect: he was promoted from a field commander into the Kha'Ri. From there he chose to be a devotee of the newly emergent G'Sten and his fledgling Narn Deep Space Fleet. All of which had led him here, to this place where their leaders chose personal prestige before the welfare of the people, where the war they could not afford to lose had been lost nearly before it began, and where thousands upon thousands of young males and females died to no avail.

The table had fallen to bickering again. The voices of his comrades sounded hollow and weak as they traded insults and blame. Malroth noticed that his mentor G'Sten, and surprisingly G'Kar, were silent as the multi-sided tirade continued. The cacophony was giving Malroth a headache. Elbows on the table, he dropped his head into his hands, trying hard to think of a way out of this predicament for his people. If only there was a way to convince some of the other empires to join against the Centauri. A resurgent Republic with a freshly veteran military should scare them out of their wits. Even now, reports were coming in that the entire Republican Reserve had been called up, and mothball units were being activated at a breakneck pace. Certain industries that were needed or the war effort were running shifts around the clock. Perhaps most telling of all: many of the moderate Centauri Houses were gathering ships and men, not just those associated with the Vorchan clique. Surely others could see that such a massive build up was meant for more than just the Narn. The Centauri hammer would swing again, and soon.

Na'Far was still going on at length about **"the aims of the Regime..."**and** "the work of the Regime..." **and** "the pride of the Regime."** With Na'Far and his cronies it was always "_the Regime_", "_the Regime_", _"the Regime"_, never as it was in the earlier days (and more appropriately): **the people.** Malroth shoved his fleet documents and copy of the proposed surrender agreement into his satchel. He then heaved to his feet, slipped the satchel over his shoulder, and left the room. He was unable to sit and listen to the nattering any longer.

He went straightaway to his quarters. He kept a small set of rooms here in the capitol city of G'Khamazad. Though the quarters were relatively Spartan in comfort they contained a vast array of research materials and information storage equipment. Malroth followed the precept of 'know thine enemy' seriously. He had collected dossiers, reports, visuals, assessments, even anecdotes about every major (and many minor) players in the Centauri political and military organizations. This sat side-by-side with plans and reports on every piece of Centauri military equipment from the _Octurion_-class battleship all of the way down to the bayonets of the lowliest soldatii.

This is not to say he only studied the Centauri, far from it. His quest for knowledge had broadened to include leaders and inventories from the Earth Alliance, all of the members of the League of Non-Aligned Worlds, even a modicum of information on the enigmatic Minbari. His collection of information was his pride and joy.

Malroth pulled open his alcohol cabinet, pausing briefly to make a selection. He dallied with the idea of getting blind drunk, and even went as far as reaching for the bottle of _kriul,_ the potent Drink of the People (potent enough to be fatal to any human that consumed it). He swept the idea out of his head and instead grabbed the _Taree,_ pouring a glass of the spiced blood-red wine into a glass. He carried it over to the table where he had set his document satchel.

Malroth dropped into a chair, still wanting to scream in fury at Na'Far. A glass-and-a-half later he had calmed somewhat, at least enough to think again about the war situation. "_There must be SOME way to wring advantage out of this debacle," _ he thought. He leaned back in his chair crossing his arms, the now empty glass cradled to his chest, eyes closed in thought. He went over the peace offer from Turhan in his mind, carefully trying to find any edge for his people. As he sat ruminating, his fatigue finally caught up with him and he dozed, drifting into vague dreams of pursuit and flight.

Malroth awoke with a start, nearly dropping his empty glass. He placed the glass on the table, glancing at the illuminated clock: he had dozed for the better part of an hour. Malroth stretched from his sitting position, then got back to work. He was going back over the peace agreement line by line, not knowing what he was looking for, but he felt certain he would know it when he saw it.

During his reading an idea came to him. Malroth quickly checked annotations and indexes, grateful that they had been provided. Whatever Centauri functionary wrote the document had given full vent to the Centauri penchant for writing much but saying little. Amid many flourishing statements and references, (_"Why oh why couldn't the Centauri just SAY what they meant clearly and succinctly,"_ he thought), Malroth found what he wanted and an idea formed. Its simplicity was elegant, provided the Centauri were willing to adhere to their own document as it was written. It would require a savvy negotiator and a willing neutral representative.

Malroth's work was interrupted by the door chime. Not even looking up from the papers strewn all over the table, he yelled out to the door intercom,** "Who is it?"**

"**It's G'Sten,"** the speaker said.

"**Come," **Malroth said. The door opened and his mentor entered the room. Malroth looked up to greet him but was struck speechless by the expression on G'Sten's face. He could tell whatever G'Sten had come to say was not good news. Swallowing his trepidation, Malroth asked, **"What is it my friend?" **

G'Sten crossed to the table and poured them both a glass of the _Taree_ before speaking. **"I wanted you to hear this from me, not from some sycophant of Na'Far."** He sighed then continued, **"Before the council recessed for the day, it had decided to relieve you of command and strip you of your rank as Warcaptain."** G'Sten reached out and laid a hand on Malroth's shoulder saying, **"I'm sorry my friend. I argued hard against this, but Na'Far was relentless. The council needed someone to blame, and Na'Far successfully argued that the failure of the war plan should be laid on its author." **

Malroth sat stunned. **"Am I to be executed or merely imprisoned?" **he asked.

G'Sten shook his head and said, **"No, nothing like that. Na'Far hinted at treachery but no one believed him."**

Malroth snorted, **"So I am not a traitor, merely incompetent."**

G'Sten tightened his hand on Malroth's shoulder and said, **"You and I both know that if the plan had been followed..."**

"**And now we must accept defeat,"** Malroth said bitterly. **"A defeat that could have been avoided and made a victory."**

"**We will rise again my friend."** G'Sten pondered a moment then grew thoughtful, **"And we have learned some valuable lessons: our older starships are inferior and completely inadequate for modern warfare, our secondary weapons lack the range to do their job properly, we must build more scouts as their support while jumping from hyperspace is paramount."**

"**Costly lessons,"** Malroth added.

They both sat a moment, dwelling on the thousands of young lives lost. Their reverie was interrupted by the door chime. **"Yes?"** Malroth said.

A voice came from the speaker, **"It is G'Kar. May I come in Malroth?"**

Malroth looked at G'Sten who simply shrugged. Malroth said, **"Enter."**

G'Kar stepped into the room and sat at the table with them. Malroth reached for another glass and poured G'Kar a drink. **"Thank-you," **he said. After drinking deeply he continued, **"First Malroth, I am sorry about your...situation. I want you to know I voted against cashiering you."**

Malroth nodded in thanks saying, **"Thank-you Ambassador."**

"**Oh please, just G'Kar among friends,"** he said self-deprecatingly.

Malroth was a bit surprised at the statement, mentally raising a brow-ridge. G'Kar had never been an ally of his, though to be fair he had not been an enemy either.

"**Malroth...I...hmm," **G'Kar stumbled, a look of genuine empathy on his face.

Malroth nodded and said, **"Thank-you again G'Kar."**

G'Kar sat silent for a moment then said, "**Gentlemen, we must end this war quickly. Though the people's spirit is high, from the reports I have read our losses are appalling."**

"**They are apt to grow worse with Na'Far 'helping'," **G'Sten added. Abruptly G'Sten's comlink chirped. He immediately stood saying, **"Excuse me, it is the War Command."** He walked a few feet away, speaking into the comlink in hushed tones, returning after only a few moments. **"I apologize, but I must cut my visit short. I am needed at the War Ministry."** G'Sten turned to leave, then paused at the doorway and said,** "The Centauri have sent a revised version of the surrender agreement, adding one more demand: that we break off all military and diplomatic ties with the Drazi Freehold." **As the impact of his pronouncement sank in G'Sten said, **"Good evening Citizens,"** then he turned and left.

Malroth sat up straighter saying, **"That brings the crosshairs into focus. They intend to continue the war with the Drazi and want us safely out of the way."**

"**Why wait until now to add the demand?"** G'Kar asked.

"**Yesterday on Centauri Prime,"** Malroth said,** "Emperor Turhan called a meeting of many high ranking military House Lords, Republican Reserve commanders, and the upper echelons of the Imperial Guard. The decision must have been made to pursue the conflict against the Drazi."**

They sat silent for a time, drinking the _Taree._** "Do you think Roglark the Assassin will be given command for a Drazi invasion?"** G'Kar asked.

Malroth thought a moment before answering, **"Yes. At present he is their most competent admiral. His own men would follow him to their death." **Malroth shook his head saying, **"And somehow he has turned his Republican Reserve units into actual warriors."** Malroth in particular was thinking of the stand of the Republican Reserve battlecruiser _Valerius._ She had stood toe-to-toe with four older Narn cruisers, not just holding them off but destroying all four of them, though it brought about her own demise. 

Pausing to carefully consider his words before continuing Malroth said, **"We can expect to see House Roglark warships, along with those of his vassal Houses, transferred to any assault against the Drazi."** He continued, **"In addition Roglark should have plenty of support from the Imperial Guard should he desire it."**

G'Kar looked surprised asking, **"How so?"**

"**Admiral Lord Binlamar Catus," **Malroth said,** "Supreme Commander of the Imperial Guard is Jentavus Roglark's Patru."**

"**Damnation!"** G'Kar barked. He slammed a fist down on the table, slopping the glasses of _Taree._ **"Every time you throw a Centauri across a room, he lands on relatives!"** G'Kar jumped up to stop the spill from ruining the papers on the table saying, **"I wasn't under the impression a 'Patru' was a true relation."**

Malroth nodded saying, **"Its not, more a friend of the family." **He paused then said, **"But traditionalist Centauri families take the relationship **_**very**_** seriously, and Houses Roglark and Catus are traditionalists to the core."** Malroth shrugged adding,** "With that in mind, Admiral Catus will try to extend every bit of help he can to his 'nephew', barring a direct order from the Emperor himself." **Malroth thought a moment then added, **"Couple that with the reports I have had of other House fleets mustering and the entire Republican Reserve being mobilized..."**

"**You paint a bleak picture,"** G'Kar said quietly.

"**I only wished to give you an honest answer," **Malroth replied.

G'Kar sat lost in thought. After a time he asked, **"How long can the Drazi withstand the Centauri?"**

Malroth stared into the deep redness of his glass before saying, **"Once hostilities commence, perhaps two months, depending on what route The Assassin takes to their homeworld of Zhabar."**

"**Surely you are joking Malroth," **G'Kar chuckled. **"Even after two **_**years**_** the Dilgar couldn't take Zhabar."** He chuckled again saying, **"Unless you are telling me Roglark the Assassin is better than Jha'dur and Dar'sen were."**

Malroth poured them more liquor saying, **"Battlemaster Dar'sen had orders to only **_**hold**_** the Drazi, not take their homeworld, and Jha'dur never faced them in combat." **Malroth shook his head saying, "**Don't have contempt for him because he is Centauri, G'Kar. Roglark is probably the best battlefield commander they have had in the last two generations. He takes the boldest of courses and somehow succeeds."** He took a swallow of his _Taree_ and said,** "I shudder to think what would have happened if he had been in charge of the Centauri fleet during The Uprising."**

As if musing G'Kar said, **"He trusts his dice, and his dice like him..."**

Malroth wasn't quite sure he heard that right and said, **"I beg your pardon?"**

"**I'm sorry," **G'Kar said. **"A phrase a human once told me, in regards to games. He said, about one particularly lucky fellow, that 'He trusts his dice, and his dice like him'." **

G'Kar sat thoughtful, then said, **"Malroth, we need to make sure the other races understand the threat the Centauri pose, especially with so many of their forces mobilized." **He paused then continued, **"I like the way you think. I am in need of a partner, someone to accompany me as I try to rally other races against the Centauri threat. When I leave Homeworld I want you to come with me."**

Malroth stared speechless for a moment. He had never considered himself a diplomat. **"If you feel I can help you serve our people, then I will gladly come."**

"**Excellent!" **G'Kar said, smiling.

"**Where do we go first?"** Malroth asked.

G'Kar grew thoughtful once again then asked, **"Have you ever been to Earth?"**

97


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

December 20th, 2241: Tau Omega Sector/System L-213, Dreadnought _Valorous Blood_

The Outer Rim. The very name conjures images and thoughts of a barbaric wasteland, the very edge of civilization, a place of dark mystery where the unknown and the improbable walk hand-in-hand with the finite and the logical. The Outer Rim is a series of systems nearly empty of indigenous life, though now populated with squatters of dozens of races, many of dubious origin and intent. Sightings, and rumors of sightings, abound for some of the more enigmatic and legendary denizens of the galaxy: the Streib, the Arihal, the Wurt, the Zener, the Kalinor, even the Drakh.

Hyperspace on the Outer Rim is full of anomalies, odd eddies, and dangerous currents. The hyperspace lanes and routes are sporadic and torturous at best. Much of the jumpgate system, such as it is, is truly primordial. The jumpgates are of an archaic design, containing far less Quantium 40 than conventional models. Empires and races, long forgotten or lost, put it into place in a seemingly random fashion. Much alternative speculative analysis has posited that perhaps once it was not so random. Some event (or series of events), perhaps that which made hyperspace nearby so tumultuous, may have caused the haphazard way in which the gate system appears to be laid out. It almost appears as if much of the Outer Rim's gate system was destroyed or removed.

Many systems contain blasted and burned worlds, their civilizations aught but cinders and dust. This vivid testament to some sort of titanic conflict in ages past gives a certain amount of credence the those that feel something cataclysmic and artificial caused the local disruption of hyperspace and the dearth of jumpgates. Some systems had normal stars surrounded by vast asteroid fields, often where inner planets should have been, but were no longer. Many more systems, more than there should be, contain ancient decrepit stars barely clinging to life, their depleted necklace of worlds only a few degrees above absolute zero. Some few have brightly flashing pulsars, somehow amazingly bereft of the typical surrounding stellar nurseries. A disproportionate amount of systems contain singularities, voracious black holes that spin in silence, already having consumed nearly all within their reach.

Commander Regilio Brokano Trelain stood on the observation deck of the Dilgar dreadnought _Valorous Blood, _gazing out into space. Just beyond the armored observation bubble (relatively speaking) a black hole slowly consumed what was left of its binary partner. He could feel the steady thrum of the engines preventing the dreadnought from falling into the ergosphere and thus into a concentric orbit around the singularity. Trelain suspected the Warmaster was stationed this close to the black hole because it disrupted hyperspace nearby, and its emissions would mask those of the two Pentacons in his flotilla. The black hole also restricted approach vectors to the flotilla, and they were close enough to experience some time dilation. Not much, but still some.

Trelain was in a bit of an odd mood: anxious and expectant. _"Still," _he thought, _"why shouldn't I be? After all, here I am standing on the deck of a Dilgar dreadnought, the 'guest' of a Warmaster, watching an example of the most destructive force in the universe, literally bestride the edge of the galaxy_." It was a little frightening to think if he simply covered one eye, most of the stars he could see were within the galaxy, yet if he covered the other eye, almost everything he could see were in fact not stars at all, but other galaxies beyond the Outer Rim.

Trelain heard a throat clear behind him. Sighing he said in Dilgar, **"What is it Combat Leader?"**

Using the Centauri language Combat Leader Ba'reel said, **"Your skill with our language is improving Commander."**

"_Five weeks of being immersed in it will do that,"_ Trelain thought. Still staring out at the vivid display, his thoughts drifted back to his fragmentary memories surrounding his capture. He could remember Dilgar marines boarding the _Marron_ and taking him captive. True to his word, Warmaster Ka'ramas had sent medical personnel for the few surviving of his crew. The Dilgar had quickly and professionally triaged his men, leaving those behind that had no chance of survival. Commander Trelain had nearly lost consciousness on the shuttle, but he could remember the vast dappled green bulk of the dreadnought looming out of the viewport of the shuttle, the ominous jut of the huge mass driver slung underneath. Before finally losing consciousness he remembered Dilgar surgeons frantically working on one of his crew, their voices and language harsh to his ears. All told, only seventeen had made it off the _Marron _alive.

His first memory after being captured and taken aboard the Dilgar dreadnought was of pain. Pain such as he had never known. At times, it felt as if his entire body was dipped in acid, or his veins were pumping liquid fire. In between these times of pain was blissful oblivion.

Once the pain eased, more time had passed for Trelain in the hazy grey of recovery. He still had some images of a tall shadowy figure standing in the doorway, speaking to him, interspersed with medical personnel caring for his wounds. He was unsure if they were memories or dreams.

When he finally arose from his timelessness, he was being tended by a trim figure clothed in grey. As the figure turned back to him, he could see it was a female Dilgar wearing medical robes, her long hair gathered into a tail snaking out from her cap. Though most of her face was covered in a surgical mask, her feline eyes seemed to light up when she saw him awake.

"**How long?"** he managed to croak out. His throat was terribly dry, and whatever they had given him for pain relief was wearing off. He saw puzzlement on her face. His sluggish brain decided that perhaps she didn't know any of the Centauri language. He tried to recall any of the Drazi he knew, but the effort was too much. He managed to ask again, this time in Terran English, **"Dear lady, how long have I been here?"**

He immediately saw her expression change, her eyes flattening with the usage of the Terran words. As his mind slowly began to clear, Trelain chided himself: anything of Terra and the Earth Alliance would most likely put any Dilgar on edge. She said something in the harsh Dilgar language. He must have looked confused as she abruptly stopped and held up two fingers. _"Two?"_ he thought. _"Two what? Hours, days weeks?"_ She closed her gloved hand as she could still see the confusion on his face. She abruptly turned and left the room, leaving Trelain to himself.

As he sat in the bed, Commander Trelain realized he must have been out for some time, possibly weeks. Though he was still in pain, it was nowhere near what it should have been considering his injuries. He was able to breath easy though a deep full breath still caused a twinge on the side where he broke a rib. He felt his face for the cuts that had adorned it, finding he had not been shaved in quite some time. _"Great Maker," _he thought as his fingers ran over his sparse beard, _"This feels like a month of growth!"_

As he idly played with the beard, something he had not had since he was a young man, he tried his best to make some order of the sketchy images from his memory. Abruptly the door slid open, and in walked a male Dilgar.

Tall and lean, easily half a head taller than Trelain, he wore a blue and grey uniform trimmed in red with broad gold epaulettes. His tall black spacer's boots were polished to a gleaming shine. His long hair was caught at the nape of the high neck of his uniform with a silver clasp. Low on his hip was a holster containing a bolt-gun. He wore several medals and decorations of which Trelain was unfamiliar. The Dilgar walked to the end of Trelain's bed and opened a folding chair that must have been leaning against it out of sight. He sat down in the chair, crossing his legs. Even seated this Dilgar carried an aura, a presence of superiority. Trelain swallowed and made a guess, "**Warmaster Ka'ramas?"** he asked as much as stated.

The Dilgar graced him with a small half smile then said, **"Yes Commander, I am Warmaster Ka'ramas." **Even with its harshness, the Warmaster's voice bespoke confidence and authority.

"**Warmaster," **Trelain croaked. ** "How long have I been...wherever here is?"**

"**You have been aboard the **_**Valorous Blood**_** for two weeks Commander,"** the Warmaster said.

Trelain mulled that over a moment, trying to reconcile the lost time. **"My men?"** he asked.

Ka'ramas gave a slight nod, as if approving of the question before saying, **"There are six of your crew still alive, Commander."** Trelain let out a gasp as the Warmaster raised a gloved hand to forestall any further outburst. **"We tried to save as many as we could Commander. Unfortunately our abilities at...**_**preserving**_** life...are not the equal of your Republic I'm afraid."** He paused as if thinking then spoke again, **"Actually only two died from their wounds."**

Thinking the worst, Trelain took a deep breath and hesitantly asked, **"How did the other nine die?"**

The Warmaster stared at him for a moment, then abruptly let out a loud laugh saying, **"Well certainly not like you were thinking right then!" **Ka'ramas laughed a few seconds longer as Trelain looked embarrassed.

Once the Warmaster got himself under control he said, **"No Commander, they died because we had no stock of Centauri blood, forcing my surgeons to give some of your men, you included, a substitute blood product."**

Trelain knew that could be dangerous as Centauri blood had never been synthesized. Some of the substitutes caused detrimental effects. The Warmaster confirmed the thought by saying, **"You and your men suffered very bad reactions to it sometime later. You were in the presence of one of my surgeons when your reaction started. I was informed that is why you were the only one that was able to be saved: he was able to quickly administer a counter drug to the reaction."**

Trelain's memories of pain made sense: a reaction like what the Warmaster had described _could_ give symptoms similar to his remembrance. Trelain had just such a reaction once before as a much younger man, after suffering an injury from a shuttle crash. Emergency medical workers had used just such a blood substitute, only to have him nearly die.

Lost in his thoughts, Trelain felt the Warmaster watching him. Sure enough, when he glanced up those pale green feline eyes were studying him, for good or ill he could not say. The intense scrutiny made Trelain vaguely nervous. Warmaster Ka'ramas gave the impression of a caged predator, a predator that gave other hunters pause. Trying to brush aside his misgivings, Trelain cleared his throat and asked, **"Warmaster, may I see my men?"**

Warmaster Ka'ramas studied him for a moment more then said, **"Of course Commander. I am certain they would welcome a visit from you." **Ka'ramas dragged his chair over next to Trelain and said, **"But first, now that you have healed some and are out of immediate...medical danger, I wish to continue our conversation that was interrupted when my marines reached your bridge."** The intensity of his stare nearly burned as he asked, **"How did the war end Commander?"**

Trelain began to haltingly tell the story of the end of the Dilgar War. He fumbled on where to start but the Warmaster gave him his place by saying, **"When we lost the final battle at Balos my fleet was dispatched coreward with a collection of sleeper ships."** Trelain continued the story from there: the abortive attack by the Drazi, the destruction of his secret weapons facility (Ka'ramas 'hmphed' at the description shaking his head in admiration), the destruction of the system jumpgate and hyperspace beacons, then the final battle at Omelos.

Trelain tried to end the story with the death of Supreme Warmaster Gar'shan and Dar'sen in the battle over Omelos, but Ka'ramas demanded to know what happened after the war. Trelain reluctantly told him how the Earth Alliance had refused the League requests to exterminate the remaining Dilgar, only to be caught completely unaware when the star in the Omelos system shed its corona killing everything on the planet.

They both sat silent for a moment. Trelain considered saying something but Ka'ramas cut him off saying, **"Did the Earth Alliance give evidence Warmaster Jha'dur was dead?"**

Trelain opened his mouth, then quickly snapped it shut. He considered the question then said, **"I don't know sir. They certainly proclaimed, quite loudly, that she had been killed at Balos."** He paused the said, "**I do remember seeing images of her battlecrusier **_**Vendetta**_** after the battle**_**.**_** I don't know how anything could have survived that level of damage."**

Ka'ramas seemed to consider that idea then said, **"Jha'dur was quite resourceful and resilient."** He mused over his own statement then said, **"But still, if she had somehow survived she would have turned up by now, either on her own or as a prisoner of the Earth Alliance."**

It was a bit surreal to hear anyone refer to Jha'dur in such a casual way. It seemed wrong to so off-handedly speak of the galaxy's worst genocidal murderer as if merely speaking of a neighbor. Even her name was still used to frighten children. "_And quite a few adults as well,"_ he thought.

The Warmaster abruptly stood saying, **"Thank-you for the history lesson Commander. I will instruct the medical section to allow you into the ship at large. As our guest, I shall assign an escort from my own staff to guide you, one that speaks Centauri."**

As if on cue, the door opened and in marched another male Dilgar in uniform and armed similarly. Obviously younger than the Warmaster, he also carried about him the aura of something dangerous, like a wild animal kept in a cage. He gave a short bow, then to Trelain's surprise, gave him an Imperial-style salute. Trelain found it impossible to ignore his years of training and responded as best he could in kind despite still being connected to the various medical equipment.

With a casual wave Ka'ramas said, **"This is Combat Leader Ba'reel. He has an excellent command of the Centauri language so you can converse until you learn some of our language." **He pointed a finger at Trelain** "So no more mistakes using English on board my ship. I think you will find the crew do not...respond well"**

Warmaster Ka'ramas turned to go, then stopped and turned back saying, **"Of course, you must still consider yourself captured. I hope you will give me your parole that you will not attempt to escape or damage my ship in any way?" **

Trelain swallowed and said, **"Of course Warmaster."**

"**Good,"** Ka'ramas replied. **"Combat Leader Ba'reel is not quite your substantive in rank, but he will have to do for an escort. All of my more senior officers are quite busy at present."** The Warmaster shrugged adding,** "Our ranking system is different than the Centauri in any case. Ba'reel has been instructed to answer your questions."** He paused then added, ** "Within reason that is." **

Ka'ramas left then, speaking to someone outside the room. The female medical attendant came back in, promptly crossed over and unhooked Trelain from the wall equipment. Wincing in pain, he thought she seemed a bit harsh about it, but he couldn't be sure. If she was, Trelain suspected it was about his using English earlier.

Apparently Combat Leader Ba'reel was sure. He promptly admonished her (or at least it sounded like and admonishment to Trelain). The attendant kept her eyes downcast during the interaction, then quietly responded to him. Ba'reel crossed his arms and gave her another order. The female turned to Trelain and spoke in very broken Terran English, **"I...sorry for...hurt you...C...C...C,"** She stumbled over Trelain's rank. She cast an imploring glance at Ba'reel who slowly sounded it out for her in English, with her repeating, "**Co...man...der."** Ba'reel seemed satisfied and dismissed her with another barked order. She responded, nodded, and then quickly exited the room.

Trelain swung his legs off the bed and tried to stand. His legs almost collapsed under him as Ba'reel jumped to his aid saying, **"Slowly please Commander. You have withstood an ordeal and have been in this bed for quite some time."** He helped Trelain to stand with an arm around his waist. After a few moments Trelain was able to stand on his own, though he still needed to lean on the Combat Leader for walking.

As he helped Trelain around the room, Ba'reel said, **"I must apologize for my crewman. She should not have been so careless as to let her emotions get the better of her."**

"**It is of no moment Combat Leader," **Trelain grunted. As he panted with his exertion he added, **"I can sympathize, being addressed in the language of a hated enemy..."**

Ba'reel shook his head saying, **"Yes, but you are a...guest of our Warmaster and should be treated as such."** He paused then added, **"It is more than the Terran words, Commander. Many of my people hold a grudge against your Republic, and your Emperor in particular."**

Trelain pulled up short at that statement, but almost immediately relaxed again. He really couldn't blame the Dilgar he supposed. Nominally they had been allies of the Republic. _"It __**was**__ our duty to come to their aid when they needed us,"_ Trelain thought. Though he was only a junior officer at the time, he remembered that many Houses had wanted to go at the beginning of the war. Putting the League in its place, in particular the Drazi, was a satisfying thought to many across the Republic at the time. But as the conflict wore on, and the Dilgar committed more and more hideous atrocities, public support for them waned. Once it was all over, and the Dilgar extinct ("_Or so everyone thought_," Trelain mused) some Centauri came to believe that if they had aided the Dilgar in the beginning, perhaps many of those atrocities would not have occurred.

The female attendant came back through the door, carrying a dark blue bundle. She dropped in on the bed, then spoke to Ba'reel who responded. He turned Trelain back towards the bed saying, **"We have some other clothing for you Commander."** Ba'reel dismissed the female and helped Trelain change from his hospital wrap into the tunic, trousers, and boots.** "I am sorry your uniform was not salvageable after your capture, though we have transferred your rank insignia to these as best we could,"** Ba'reel said. Sure enough his wings and stars adorned the collar and breast of the Dilgar navy fatigues.

After helping Trelain dress, Ba'reel escorted him out of the medical section and took him to the surviving members of his crew. They were very happy to see him, crowding around him in a most undisciplined fashion. Trelain saw all six remaining crew were from the Engineering section, men he did not know terribly well. But that was to be expected with a crew of over three hundred. He asked them if they were being treated well, and they assured him they were: they had been fed regularly, clothed in new fatigues, given this barracks room as quarters, allowed the use of one of the training gyms for exercise, even given some liquor. Still they were a bit apprehensive and uneasy. Suspecting the men were carefully editing themselves in the presence of the Dilgar officer, Trelain asked Ba'reel if he could give them the room. Ba'reel granted the request immediately, saluting and leaving them the room, saying he would be outside until needed.

The men began to speak volubly immediately upon the Dilgar's exit. They poured out their story of the last two weeks. In disjointed bits and pieces the story came forth, with Trelain trying to discern the pertinent facts from the six babbling accounts. Despite the fact that the Dilgar had been gruffly courteous, the men were concerned because all of them, even the least wounded, had a gap of at least ten days in their memory. They also flat out did not believe the other nine had died from natural causes, something about which Trelain himself was worried.

Trelain was certain the room had audio and visual surveillance. He tried to make light of their claims, tried to give them the impression that all was well, that they were valuable prisoners, if not guests. He briefly spoke of his interview with the Warmaster earlier, making sure to tell them he had been referred to as a 'guest'. It bruised his conscience terribly, but he lied through his teeth to them, afraid that if the Warmaster believed they were on to whatever his plans were, something hideous and excruciating might happen to them all. Though it was clear they weren't quite ready to fully believe his glossing over the anomalies in the events, the men were commoners and of very low rank, used to following orders given by someone in authority. If anything they relaxed a bit, believing their Commander had things well in hand.

Trelain nearly wept at their trust, knowing that they might soon be dead, or worse. But Trelain was not about to let his own misgivings and fears be spoken aloud, lest they materialize. He felt with all his heart that these Dilgar wanted something from them (and him in particular). Whatever the "something" was, they were willing to use kindness rather than brutality to get it, at least for the moment. Trelain vowed that he and the remainder of his crew would somehow survive. It even sounded real as he told them **"Just sit tight boys, give them no cause for alarm, cooperate for now. Give me some time and I promise we will walk off this ship together as free men..."**

"_What a fool I was,"_ Trelain thought to himself as he continued watching the black hole. He had learned over the weeks since promising his men their eventual freedom, some of what the Warmaster wanted. Still not turning away from the stellar display, he used his new facility with the Dilgar language to ask Ba'reel, **"What does the Warmaster want of me?"**

Ba'reel continued speaking in Centauri, **"He ordered me to escort you to the primary flight deck, so that you could see the result of your labors these past weeks."**

"_My labors..."_ Trelain thought. Indeed, he had been working these last weeks. Shortly after Trelain had been discharged from medical care, the Warmaster had revealed what it was he wanted.

Nearly five weeks earlier, Trelain had been summoned to the Warmaster's cabin. He had just finished styling his hair into a modicum of Centauri decency. The Dilgar had nearly nothing that worked in place of his normal hair-setting agent. Only barely satisfied, he left the room with Ba'reel.

He traveled as quickly as possible to the Warmaster's cabin. Though Trelain was finally comfortable in the yellow-green Dilgar lighting, he was still not used to the gawks or the outright steely anger he saw on the faces of the crew. Outside the cabin, flanking the door, were two hulking Dilgar marines in full battle gear. They snapped to attention for Trelain, who saluted them. Trelain and Combat Leader Ba'reel passed the threshold into the cabin. It was decorated rather austerely compared to what Trelain had come to expect in his own service. Ka'ramas was working at his desk. He glanced up as they entered saying, **"Please make yourself comfortable Commander. I must finish this before we speak."** As the Warmaster continued entering data on his console, Trelain roamed about the cabin.

He noted several holo-portraits adorning the walls, a sword of an unfamiliar type hanging over a cabinet, what appeared to be several engineering models of some sort of scattered across the room's surfaces. As Trelain inspected the models he saw they were cutaways of various ship-borne weapons.

The portraits showed various people: what was obviously Ka'ramas receiving some sort of military decoration by an aged Dilgar, a much younger Ka'ramas in what looked like an academy graduation ceremony, an exterior picture of the _Valorous Blood_ in a moment of glory firing her guns, a formal portrait of Supreme Warmaster Gar'shan draped in red-trimmed white. Trelain saw a portrait of a smiling Dilgar woman. From the look in her eyes, he assumed she was either a lover or spouse. Her holo was also draped in white though grey-trimmed. With a jolt he saw a smaller picture of Ka'ramas and Jha'dur with several other officers in a casual setting, clearly sitting around a table drinking and laughing. The last was of a very young Ka'ramas in an athletic outfit, standing on a dais, a silvery stylized crown on his brow, arms raised in victory, smiling proudly for the camera.

"**In my youth I took the crown in my event for the Prime Games," **Ka'ramas said, startling Trelain. He assumed the Dilgar 'Prime Games' must be much like the Centauri World Games, or the Terran Olympic Games.

**"That is most impressive Warmaster,"** Trelain admired. He studied the holo seeing Ka'ramas standing alone and asked, **"Where are the runners-up?"**

Ka'ramas chuckled saying, **"We have no second-place. Either you win and are victorious or you go home in shame."**

The comment reminded Trelain just how unforgiving a people the Dilgar could be. Swallowing he asked, **"What was your event Warmaster?"**

**"The S-S-P,"** Ka'ramas replied. He saw Trelain's look of confusion and further explained, **"Strength-Stamina-Perfection. Eleven competitions in all: various running, climbing, jumping, spear-casting, sword both blinded and clear."** He sighed saying,** "It was the oldest event in the Games, dating back to our distant past."** Ka'ramas motioned to a chair and Trelain eased himself down into it, slightly grimacing in discomfort.

The Warmaster studied him a moment then said, **"I can see your wounds are still somewhat painful Commander."**

Trelain waved away the comment saying, **"It is of no moment Warmaster, only during sitting and rising. I find all of my other injuries are completely healed."**

** "Good,"** Ka'ramas said. He sat back in his chair and seemed to carefully consider his words before speaking, "**Commander I require your assistance in something."**

Not knowing what to expect, Trelain swallowed and said, **"What can I do for you Warmaster?" **

"**I need you to accompany some of my officers and myself planetside and help me find some...old associates,"** he said.

"**Which planet Warmaster?"** Trelain asked.

"**We are currently in hyperspace just outside the Zafran system," **he replied. **"I am given to understand that Zafran VIII is host to a trading port of sorts. That is our destination."**

"_Zafran? What in the Seven Yellow Hells are we doing here?"_ Trelain thought. Zafran was all of the way out on the Outer Rim in what the Earth Alliance called the Tau Omega Sector. It was a dangerous, blighted area of the galaxy, populated by dregs and races of questionable intent. _"Well," _Trelain thought, _"where __**else**__ would a group of Dilgar go?"_ Anywhere else and they were a marked species. Any Dilgar identified could probably be turned in for a head bounty to the League or the Earth Alliance. Yet somehow, fleeing and hiding in the Outer Rim didn't seem in character for the Dilgar, particularly for a Warmaster. _"Why didn't they just go back to...wherever they came from?",_ he thought.

Ka'ramas watched Trelain mull on his statement for a moment, tracking the play of the thoughts in his head by the expression on his face. Once he saw Trelain's confusion was not going to clear he said, **"No Commander, I do not intend to hide here. My fleet must have fuel, food, consumables, and a base with repair facilities from which to operate. Though our colony could supply some of these things it is too far away."** He paused then continued, "**Also they cannot help with something...special I have in mind. Those that I wish to find can. Once I find whom I need..." **

Trelain wondered exactly whom they were going to find. As far as he knew, and the galaxy at large knew, the Dilgar had no allies. They had fought their war alone, and had died alone.

"**What exactly do you need me to do Warmaster?" **Trelain asked.

Ka'ramas rose from behind his desk and stepped closer to Trelain, leaning his hip against the front of the desk. **"My people are too well known. Even here in the Outer Rim we would soon enough be recognized, and reported."** He sighed then shook his head saying, **"No. The last thing I need is some mercenary sub-species letting Earth Force know we are here." **A grim, feral smile split the Warmaster's face. With a far away look in his eyes he growled, **"I will fight **_**them**_** at a time and place of my choosing."**

Ka'ramas took a deep breath, coming back to the present. He abruptlybegan ticking things off on his fingers, **"But for the specifics: I need you to engage in some transactions on our behalf, I need you to arrange sale for some prizes we have captured, I need you to acquire certain readily available information."** He gestured behind Trelain to Ba'reel standing next to the door, "**Combat Leader Ba'reel, myself, and two marines will accompany you, disguised as Kalinor zealots."** The Kalinor were known to exile their worst militaristic religious devotees, surgically preventing any from speaking their blasphemies. These zealots were often hired in the Outer Rim as mercenary guards. As the exiled zealots usually wore elaborate wrappings and concealing headgear, it would be a perfect disguise and explain away any question about their lack of speech.

These things seemed modest, but something didn't ring true. Why were they staying? Surely they could simply attack some convoy somewhere and take whatever they needed. After all, ships were always disappearing in the Outer Rim. Why was a flag officer putting himself into harm's way accompanying a simple foraging mission? Trelain, accustomed to the intrigue of everyday life in the Centauri Republic, sensed something else going on here. **"What do you **_**really**_** need me to do Warmaster?"**

His eyes narrowing, the Warmaster crossed his arms and said, **"I need you to help me find the Drakh."**

Trelain sat stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing. Ka'ramas seemed less than amused, his narrowed eyes taking on a dangerous glint. Trelain realized he must have overstepped his bounds, but for the life of him couldn't stop laughing. He heard Ba'reel hiss at him in warning. The hiss helped Trelain exert some self-control. **"Oh Warmaster," **Trelain sputtered, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, **"I didn't know you had such a sense of humor!"** Trelain saw Ka'ramas was not smiling, he was simply staring at Trelain, the dangerous glint now a smoldering fire. Trelain tried to backpedal, **"Warmaster, the Drakh don't exist. They were a legend, a hobgoblin to frighten unwary travelers and mischievous children."**

"**You are wrong Commander, so very wrong,"** Ka'ramas said in a low, dangerous voice. He gestured vaguely around the room saying, **"Do you see those models of weapons? I was responsible for their creation before the war. For at least five years, I worked in close contact with several Drakh, at the direction of Supreme Warmaster Gar'shan, improving our weapons and creating new ones for the war."**

Turning his attention back to Trelain, Ka'ramas said, "**And ****you**** will help me reestablish contact with them."**

The Warmaster seemed to hum with a barely chained anger. Trelain hesitated to speak, but Ka'ramas seemed to be waiting for an answer. He wasn't sure he wanted to be responsible for helping the Dilgar renew their war with Earth. **"Warmaster...I..."** he stammered.

Ka'ramas crossed his arms again and said, **"I am certain, **_**Commander**_**, that your...**_**surviving**_** men would appreciate you helping us."**

Trelain inhaled sharply at the menacing statement. _"So, at last I see the steel fist inside the silken glove,"_ he thought. Trelain remembered his bold and foolish promise to his men. He lowered his head and gave the only answer he could, **"Of course Warmaster. I would be happy to help you in any way I can."** Trelain glanced back up to see Ka'ramas looking down at him. The Warmaster was actually smiling, though there was very little warmth in the smile. It reminded Trelain of the grin of the jungle cats they had on Immolan.

And so for nearly five weeks, they had drifted about the Outer Rim. One of the prizes the Dilgar had acquired was a small jump-capable freighter. The Warmaster had crewed it with Dilgar from _Valorous Blood_. While the two Pentacons waited in hyperspace, their freighter had dropped into realspace at every system, looking for the denizens of the Outer Rim. Trelain had never seen such a wretched cesspool of beings. With proper costuming and props he had posed as a merchant of alien artifacts gleaned from the various dead worlds that comprised the vast bulk of the Outer Rim. As he did that he even arranged for the sale of the other prizes. The Warmaster also had him casually check on outgoing convoys, ordering his two Pentacons to ambush ones likely to have fuel and food.

But all the while, as he plied his 'trade', he took instructions from Ka'ramas on what and who to look for. From one decadent creature to another they progressed. First was an ancient Brakiri, buying and selling anything (or anyone they discovered). He sent them on to one of the Cascor, who in turn sent them to a Tokati, and so on and so forth.

After more than three weeks of searching and interrogating, jumping from one barely alive system after another, their small group had arrived at a decrepit mining facility inside a rather large asteroid. It was one of many scattered across the asteroid belt around the unnamed star. There they had made contact with a member of a species called the Streib who seemed to be the only ones in possession of the asteroid belt. Looking a bit like a larger well-muscled Vree, they were almost mouthless and like the Vree had a mild telepathy, more of an empathy. This particular specimen was able to make what it knew understood to Trelain and his disguised companions: yes, it knew of the Drakh, but such information was expensive as they were eager to be left alone.

Trelain had paid the Streib, but it still prevaricated, indicating more was needed for such a task as finding the legendary Drakh. At this point the Streib became agitated as it realized somehow that Trelain's Kalinor guards were actually Dilgar. It must have squeaked out the name and the Warmaster recognized it.

With their cover ruined, Ka'ramas spoke, barking an order. One of his marines promptly grabbed up the Streib, its telepathic wailing making Trelain dizzy. Ka'ramas reminded the Streib that sometimes expensive could also mean costly. Ba'reel and the other marine had immediately moved to cover them as a pair of other Streib rushed in with weapons drawn.

The Streib ordered its companions to stand down, and tried to assure Ka'ramas it would do as he asked without delay. This was hard to discern at first as the confused flitting of its alien thoughts danced in their minds. The Streib agreed to make contact for them, promising to handle the negotiations personally. Ka'ramas had threatened that if he was being set up for some sort of betrayal, the Streib had condemned this settlement to a hideous death by mass driver as well as its own personal death. Ka'ramas told it he would make a pair of boots from its skin. Trelain realized that he was meant to hear these threats as well: they had been spoken in the Centauri language. The Streib had broadcast dismay, fear, eventually speaking in an obsequious manner, assuring them in its whistling voice that it would never betray the great Dilgar race.

They had left his shop, the marines and Ba'reel covering them, Ka'ramas escorting the Streib himself. Trelain could still hear the whisper of the Streib's thoughts over the whistling of its voice. It must have been warning others of its species to allow them to leave as they were not molested back to the landing pad.

Once back in hyperspace aboard the _Valorous Blood_, the Streib had been confined after giving Ka'ramas coordinates of a system where it could start to contact the Drakh. Trelain had stayed on the bridge with the Warmaster, at his request. Ka'ramas had one of his strike cruisers reopen another jump point within the asteroid belt, and had the dreadnought fly out and take up station over the Streib mining settlement they had just left. The Warmaster hissed out a single word, one Trelain's growing familiarity with the Dilgar language allowed him to understand: **"Fire."**

Trelain had been horrified as he saw a coruscating mass driver sphere shoot down range, almost floating toward the asteroid. He had one moment to professionally note that Dilgar mass drivers were larger than the Centauri version, and the energy surrounding them was more violet than blue. Then the sphere impacted with the asteroid.

It split the asteroid into several large pieces, all of them tumbling in multiple directions. Trelain gasped as he saw the atmosphere of the mining facility spew out and freeze solid in the vacuum. He could hear other mining stations frantically calling to the destroyed facility, but the Warmaster was prepared for this. Trelain's combat-trained ear caught the telltale signs that the dreadnought was jamming the available frequencies.

"**Hit them again, " **Ka'ramas said. Another mass driver sphere flashed out past the bow of the dreadnought and pummeled the remaining largest piece of asteroid. The second impact was enough to completely shatter the irregularly shaped chunk. A further small amount of atmosphere leaked out and froze, then the reactor exploded. _"No survivors there,"_ Trelain thought.

The Warmaster gave a command that Trelain did not understand, but it's meaning was obvious when the dreadnought opened a scintillating jump point and flew into hyperspace. Ka'ramas turned and walked back to where Trelain was standing, catching him gape-mouthed at the destruction. **"Close your mouth Commander**", the Warmaster admonished, **"Such personal displays are unbecoming in an officer**." Ka'ramas, displaying his predator's smile again, clapped him on the shoulder and said, **"Now Commander, surely you understand I couldn't leave our liaison's comrades behind. In a day or so they would have spread the word that their friend was absconded with by three Dilgar and a Centauri, and I do not wish to be revealed as of yet."** The smile died out as his jaw tightened. "**Once I have what I need from the Drakh however,"** he growled,** "it won't matter who knows about us**."The Warmaster continued past him and left the bridge, leaving Trelain alone with his thoughts and fears, amid the contemptuous furtive glances of the bridge crew.

"**Commander...Commander?"** Ba'reel's voice brought Trelain back to the present.

"_It was all easy after that,"_ Trelain thought. The Streib had lived up to its word, taking them through a few systems and contacts. A mere ten days later, here they were in the L-213 system, waiting for the Drakh to arrive, their quest fulfilled. **"I am sorry Combat Leader," **he said. Trelain turned away from the observation dome to the Dilgar and said, **"I was...thinking of the past, and how we came to be here**."He squared his shoulders, lifted his head high and said, **"Please take me to the Warmaster."**

Ba'reel escorted him down through the bowels of the dreadnought, past many of the hurrying crew. The crew no longer looked at him in anger, but often their contempt was palpable. Trelain found he would have preferred the anger. One final lift ride, and the doors opened out onto what Trelain assumed was the primary flight deck. A small group of Dilgar crew and officers were gathered at the other end. Ba'reel urged him on as he slowed down to look at the Thorun Dartfighters, stacked in transport racks like a solid dappled green wall, cockpits sealed, drives dark.

They passed a secured flotilla of breaching pods, their angular shapes blocking what was either a large shuttle or small transport. Warmaster Ka'ramas, resplendent in his dress uniform, was waiting before the large shuttle. The shuttle was oddly shaped, very rounded and fluid looking, colored in soft blended bands of orange, yellow, black, and brown.

Out of the smooth featureless hull, a hatch and ramp opened out. Down the ramp came two...creatures, if that was what they were. It hurt Trelain's eyes just to look at them. They shimmered and flickered, almost as if they were an illusion. So much of what had happened to him for the last couple of months was so surreal that Trelain wondered, for an instant, if they were specters or wraiths rather than living beings. They were big, as tall as the Warmaster, but much more heavily built. Beneath their heavy hooded cloaks they seemed to be wearing armored suits, complete with skull-like helmets. _"They sound solid enough,"_ Trelain thought, hearing their footsteps crack as they crossed the short distance to stand in front of Ka'ramas.

The two figures gave a short bow, which Ka'ramas returned with a quick bob of his head. The foremost of the two lifted one hand in salute while extending a glowing device clutched in the other hand saying, **"Greetings Ka'ramas, Warmaster of the Dilgar."** The voice was an icy, sibilant whisper that nonetheless carried to where Trelain stood.

"**Hail and well met, envoy of the Drakh,"** Ka'ramas responded formally, raising his own hand in return. **"If you wish to dispense with your translators,"** he said, **"we can converse in your language."** He shrugged then continued,** "Though it has been many years I am still conversant."**

The frigid whisper spoke again, **"It is not necessary Warmaster. Once we are in close contact with you for a short time, we will be fluent in your tongue."**

"**As you wish,"** Ka'ramas replied. **"Have you brought what I asked?"**

The Drakh turned and motioned down the length of the shuttle. A large ramp was quickly and silently lowering to rest against the deck of the dreadnought. A series of beings were handling a line of anti-grav sleds. On top of these sleds, stacked and secured in racks, were what appeared to Trelain to be anti-shipping missiles. The beings seemed of different types: some flickering in armor like those that greeted the Warmaster, others smaller, robed and vaguely reptilian with heavy scales, almost like stonework, a few nearly naked with thin pinched faces and bulbous heads, bearing a striking similarity to both Vree and the captive Streib. Trelain leaned backwards and said _sotto voce_ to Ba'reel, **"There are at least three species here, Ba'reel."** He motioned to the line of working creatures and asked,** "Which are the Drakh?" **

Ba'reel leaned forward and whispered, **"They are all Drakh, Commander. I am given to understand that in their language 'drakh' simply means 'servant'."** He shrugged and added, **"It is how they collectively refer to themselves."**

Something struck Trelain as odd about that: a group of races that called themselves servants. **"Whom do they serve?"** Trelain asked.

Ba'reel slightly shook his head and whispered, **"I do not know Commander. I have nev..."** Ba'reel stopped and motioned behind Trelain, **"The Warmaster wants you to step forth Commander."**

Trelain snapped around to see Ka'ramas looking at him expectantly. The Warmaster extended a hand and motioned to the racks of missiles. **"Come Commander," **he almost purred,** "Come see the result of your endeavors on our behalf."**

Trelain walked forward to the Warmaster's side and looked at the sleek missiles. They were long, about the length of a Centauri _Sentri_-class fighter. He immediately saw they were not propelled by fusion or chemical means, and the lack of control fins made him suspect it was not meant for atmospheric flight. At first he thought it was a trick of the odd color Dilgar lighting, but upon closer inspection he saw the surface of the missiles had changed. The strange network of web-like black and grey splotches slowly flowed into new patterns right before his eyes. For no reason he could discern, the missiles filled him with revulsion, and fear. Much like the Drakh in the armor, something about these weapons was fundamentally...wrong.

Abruptly, he felt an attraction to the weapon, an odd compulsion to feel its slowly swirling surface. Almost without volition, Trelain's hand reached out tentatively to touch the surface of the weapon. As his hand approached, the mottled pattern shifted, forming a large black spot where his hand was about to touch. Trelain could actually feel the black spot beckoning him, desiring his caress. He could almost hear it whispering.

The Warmaster's voice broke the enchantment. **"Regilio Brokano Trelain!"** Ka'ramas exclaimed. It was the first time the Warmaster had used his given names. Trelain came to his senses, shaking his head. **"If you touch the weapon Commander," **Ka'ramas said, **"it will drain the energy from your body and slay you instantly."** Trelain recoiled and withdrew his hand. He almost believed he could feel the weapon keening in remorse that it had not enticed him to touch it. He backed up a step as the weapon's pattern shifted back to match the others, all of them continuing with their sluggish ever-changing visual scheme.

Trelain glanced at the Warmaster. The feral predatory smile had returned. A malignant light lit his eyes as he gazed rapturously at the weapons. _"Great Maker,"_ Trelain thought, _"what evil have I wrought?"_ Trelain made the sign of the Great Maker over his face, and began to silently pray. 

110


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

December 21, 2241: Immolan District Orbital Anchorage, _Terhali's Satisfaction_

The last time the galaxy had truly seen the Centauri Republic go to war was against the Orieni Empire, over three centuries ago. All of the other myriad skirmishes, engagements, actions, conflicts, and battles, were against vastly inferior enemies. When the Centauri came against older less robust races, often they retreated without fighting, allowing the Centauri to absorb their abandoned colonies. More than a score of unique cultures fell before the awesome might of the Centauri Republic, some never to be seen again. Many of the conquered worlds were unable to even fend off the Centauri fleets; others never raised a finger in their defense, simply thinking the Centauri gods. Even when the Narn fought them in The Uprising, had the Centauri been united and all working together, the Narns would have remained slaves, or become one of those unique cultures that simply vanished.

But the Centauri were not united during The Uprising, and thus began what they called the _Dotargadore:_ the 'Long Retreat'. In less than twenty years the Centauri had fallen back to borders that had not been on any map in living memory. Old Emperor Peraini, and much of the Republic, turned their eyes away from their former subjects for a time and looked elsewhere.

It was there that they found Earth, sometimes called Terra, and her people the humans. They were more similar to the Centauri in appearance than any species they had found (or conquered) up to that point. For once, the Centauri did exactly what they claimed to have done for others: they took Earth and her inhabitants to the stars. Now while some have claimed that without the superficial similarity both species shared, the Centauri would have enslaved them as they had so many others, it did seem to many that the Centauri were genuinely fond of Earth and her people.

Eventually, however, the novelty wore off, and Earth lost some of its shine in the eyes of Old Emperor Peraini. It was never known what exactly caused his change of heart; it is entirely possible his madness alone provided whatever catalyst was necessary. In any event, the Centauri cast their covetous eyes upon Earth and her treasures. Old Emperor Peraini ordered his general, admirals, and a few select Houses, to secretly prepare invasion plans for the Earth Alliance.

Against their better judgment the Centauri military did as they were ordered. They developed a plan for a two-pronged assault jumping off from Quadrant 1 going to the Vega colony and Beta 9 simultaneously, and then hitting Orion and Proxima 3, and then combining for the Sol system itself. A bold plan that the Emperor found enticing, but his military knew would lead only to ruin. They judged the Earth Alliance (and rightly so) a power to be reckoned with. Perhaps not on the same level as the Centauri, or the Hyach yet, but certainly not to be scorned. In his mild madness Old Emperor Peraini demanded that forces be gathered, materials stockpiled, and forces trained.

One of the nobles chosen to spearhead the attack was Lord Quillan Roglark, the father of Jentavus. The Old Emperor had taken a liking to him, judging him steadfastly loyal to the Republic, putting Quillan Roglark deep into his confidence. The Emperor rewarded him with gifts for his loyalty repeatedly, even giving his House an _Octurion_-class battleship.

But like the other military leaders, Quillan saw the plan to invade as folly. It was he that first suggested that **"...should we join in war against the Terrans, they will consider it a betrayal and regard our destruction their crusade, not stopping until Centauri Prime was ashes."** Though he always appeared to be the Emperor's man, in reality he worked with the military to prevent any possibility of the invasion actually happening. Quillan had the foresight to see that if the Centauri Republic attempted to cross swords with the Earth Alliance at that time, without her full might and the support of many Houses, it might mean the end of the Republic. Quillan walked the razor's edge playing his double game with Old Emperor Peraini for nearly a decade, until at last the mild madness of the Emperor degraded his faculties enough to declare a Regency, allowing the plans to be shelved. Though Quillan did not live to see the Dilgar War, many which had know him saw his predictions about the Earth Alliance come true.

Lord Jentavus Roglark stood on the repaired Admiral's Walk of _Terhali's Satisfaction,_ gazing out at the colony of Immolan V. It was one of the oldest and the most pleasant of the Centauri colonies, more of a second homeworld. The odor of fresh paint from the recent repairs still permeated the air of the ship. As _Terhali's Satisfaction_ slowly turned to put the planet to her aft, the fleet came into view. It was a vast array, filling the skies above Immolan in every shade of purple, blue, silver, and gold: the might of the Centauri Republic. Warships of every kind were laid out in a perfect, lethal martial symmetry, waiting, straining for the moment their leashes were slipped. Lord Roglark felt a fierce moment of pride that he had lived long enough to see the Republic reawaken, along with a deep sense of satisfaction that he had had helped to rouse her from her ignoble slumber.

Fleet tankers were still moving through the armada, topping off the bunkers of those ships that carried fighters. Though Immolan had a proper orbital anchorage, it was overwhelmed by a fleet of this size. But then again short of Centauri Prime, or Quadrant 1, no other place had one even this large. Quadrant 17 did, once upon a time, but the station at Quadrant 17 would probably not be ready for at least another month. That was still a fantastically short amount of time from its virtual destruction, quite a feat of engineering considering the amount of damage it had sustained. Though it would not help on the first leg of the Drazi campaign, save as a supply depot, once the repairs had been completed ships could use it as a repair facility rather than go back to Immolan.

Many Houses, both Major and Minor had sent warships and men for the Drazi offensive. Most of the ships had jumped to Immolan, though some of the volunteer House units had to come from other systems and would join the fleet at the final rally point, Nefua III, before leaving Centauri space to fight the Drazi. Some of the fleet from Quadrant 17 was here as well, awaiting their vengeance and a chance to redress their shame. Many moderate Lords and their clients were now joining the fight, their pride of nation borne like a naked dagger: Hirso, Mollari, Jaddo, Harisha, Cartagia, and many more Houses all of the way up to the sixth tier. Their ships represented the most varied of the color schemes, each ship and squadron painted in accordance with the House's desire. Even a few of the more mercenary Basif Lords had sent a few ships, hoping to gain favor and prestige. A certain portion of the Imperial Guard had been released for the campaign, their classically painted warships standing out by their uniformity amongst the varied throng.

There were a great many of the Republican Reserve, the relatively drab ships having been here the longest. They had spent extra time being put through special training and integration at Immolan under Lord Roglark's direction. Like the other Republican units under his command in Quadrant 1, Lord Roglark wanted and needed them to operate as valued members of the fleet. The extra attention was already bearing fruit as they had improved performance in maneuvers and gunnery. They were at last feeling a sense of pride at being counted as equals to the other House units. In a display of that newfound pride, many of the Republican units had contrived to purchase more personalized paint schemes, often the cost being carried by the officers and crew. Many were realizing they did not have to be the bastard sons of the House units, and had every right to sit at table with them.

Many of the Vorchan Lords had sent portions of their fleets, a smaller group accompanying their squadrons personally. Among those personally going on campaign were his old friend Lord Brazita, who should have been Governor of Quadrant 17; 'Papa' Jarno, old enough to be Roglark's grandsire; Lords Crusis, Anethol, and Rojes, had come to personally lead their ships. House Trefara had sent their oldest son Stirius and a battlegroup based around their _Octurion _battleship _Shalimar's Desire._ Lord Refa, having just been named Ambassador to the Corillani Theocracy, was forbidden by law to leave on campaign. He had instead sent another battlegroup and his personal envoy in the form of Count Desdinova Tyrcos. But despite all this, many Vorchan Lords had sent only token forces, or prevaricated about coming on campaign. Most notable was Luco Vezini, founder of the Vorchan faction.

It had been decided at the meeting of theatre commanders that the war needed to be continued against the Drazi. The Massacre of Quadrant 17 could never have happened without the Drazi's active participation in drawing off and pinning down most of the late Lord Tesu's garrison. The Centauri Republic had made no demands: of remuneration, or trade concessions, or ceding of territory as recompense for their complicity with the Narn. Emperor Turhan had only _requested_ an offer of apology, which had been promptly rebuffed by the headstrong Drazi government. They considered themselves a warrior people, well matched to any invaders. They had held off the Dilgar for more than two years, their leader Stro'kath being responsible for the death of the Dilgar's legendary tactician Dar'sen. In all their long history, no foreign invaders had ever set foot on their homeworld of Zhabar. They had skirmished with the Centauri (and all of their other neighbors) for nearly five centuries, often causing as much damage as they received.

But in all of those centuries, only a small fraction of the full might of the Republic had been brought to bear against the Drazi. The Centauri had used tactics to fight the Drazi much like the Dilgar had: holding actions, nuisance raids, hit and fade attacks, interceptions, and the occasional small pitched battle. But no longer.

Lord Roglark stood, arms clasped behind his back, gazing at the fleet he was to command. He saw a few shuttles putting off from various ships; their small ion drives flaring into blue-violet tails as they accelerated toward House Refa's flagship, the battlecrusier _Rossingol's Truth._ Lords Vezini and Refa had called a meeting of the present Vorchan Lords, nominally to celebrate the _Scirafus Antopurna_. It was an ancient tradition, literally translated as the 'Cup Before the Northwest Wind', a last drink between comrades before taking ship to war. In the days of the Xon Wars (where the tradition originated), the northwest wind blew most directly to the lands of the Xon. Lord Roglark also suspected they would also like to talk political strategy before the Emperor arrived insystem later today.

As Lord Roglark mused on the upcoming meeting, he heard ringing footsteps behind him. Lord Roglark turned to greet his friend, **"Yes Captain?"**

Captain Thendon Classion stopped and came to attention, clicking his iron-shod heels together and bowing from the waist. He stood from the bow, the short fringe of his Flag Captain epaulettes swaying. **"My Lord,"** he said, **"You asked to be reminded when we are to depart for **_**Rossingol's Truth**_**."**

Lord Roglark sighed then smiled at his friend, glad that most of Thendon's wounds had healed so splendidly. He still had a small bit of facial and body scarring, but Lord Roglark knew Thendon would bear those new scars in pride.

Today would be a busy day, first the Scirafus, followed by a visit from the Emperor when he arrived this evening. Emperor Turhan had chosen to honor Lord Roglark with a private audience upon his arrival. The Emperor was also paying him a fine compliment, as the audience was to be aboard _Terhali's Satisfaction._ He could have simply commanded Lord Roglark to an audience either on the surface at the Adjunct Palace, or aboard his own ship _Son of Kiro,_ before the fleet left the anchorage at Immolan.

"**Let us be about it then,"** he said. Lord Roglark strode off the Admiral's Walk, with Captain Classion in tow. As he exited the bridge he said, **"Ante-Commander Ordillo you have the conn."**

The third-officer, a relation of the House Telepath Trajus, snapped to attention from his console saying **"Aye my Lord!"** Lord Roglark's last view of the bridge before the lift doors closed was of Ordillo, sitting down in the ornate Captain's chair.

The lift carried Captain Classion and Lord Roglark deep into the interior of _Terhali's Satisfaction_. Twice the lift had stopped to admit other men of the crew, each greeting him with bow and a **"Good day my Lord."**

They all exited the lift at its terminus, the dismissed junior men scattering quickly ahead of Lord Roglark and Captain Classion. The lift was not in a direct line above the flight deck, causing Lord Roglark, Classion, and the crewmen to follow two side corridors. Men stopped and came to attention as they walked, with Lord Roglark waving them onward past him, knowing that they had other duties to perform.

Lord Roglark and Captain Classion arrived at the flight deck, crossing its vast expanse to the waiting shuttle. The escort fighters were thrumming in the launch frames, waiting for the launch alert. Captain Classion walked up the ramp into the shuttle, Lord Roglark one step behind. The flight crews saluted as the door sealed. Lord Roglark and Captain Classion settled into their chairs. A squad of House Roglark marines had already boarded and were using handholds for the lift off. The launch alarm sounded causing the flight crews to scatter. The engines of the four escorting Sentri fighters ramped up to a shriek even as the engines of the shuttle rose to a new higher crescendo.

Abruptly the escorts catapulted out into space, the shuttle following at a much more sedate pace. Lord Roglark stared out of the viewport, momentarily seeing Immolan below before it jumped out of his vision as the shuttle turned into the fleet.

Following the escorting fighters, the shuttle ran down through the fleet to Lord Refa's battlecrusier, _Rossingol's Truth._ Lord Roglark snorted and shook his head in disapproval at the name of the ship. Lord Refa was showing his hubris at naming a cruiser in the manner of a battleship. House Refa had no _Octurion_-class battleship, and clearly had named this battlecruiser in emulation.

The shuttle slowed, lining up with the flight bay on the battlecruiser. Unlike the battleships, the flight deck on cruisers was to the aft, between the drives. The drives themselves barely glowed, producing just enough thrust to keep the ship on station. The fighters peeled off as Lord Roglark's shuttle passed through the energy field that retained the atmosphere. He briefly glimpsed a group of others standing on the deck as the shuttle landed.

The door opened as the ramp slid down to the deck. Lord Roglark could hear several men just beyond the threshold. He stepped down the ramp into the brighter lighting of the flight deck. The officer of the deck stepped forward as Lord Roglark asked, **"Permission to come aboard?"**

While bowing from the waist the officer said **"Aye, my Lord! Permission granted. Lord Refa bids you welcome!"**

Lord Roglark, Captain Classion, and a pair of marines walked over to the group of nobles that had already landed. In the group were Lord Ansilo, Minor Lord Esposial, and Count Mintrose, all with their retinues of officers, soldiers, and functionaries. The Vorchan nobles made sounds of welcome as Lord Roglark, Captain Classion, and their marines joined the crowd.

Lord Refa's Sub-Prefect appeared from a side corridor. He cleared his throat loudly to get everyone's attention, then said, **"My Lords, gentlemen, if you will please follow me I will take you to Lord Refa and his other guests."**

They all followed as the Sub-Prefect led them into the bowels of the battlecrusier. All of the other nobles deferred to Lord Roglark as he took the front position in the procession. As they were led to the other Vorchan nobles, Lord Roglark surreptitiously inspected the interior of Refa's ship. Everywhere he looked, the functional structure of the cruiser was hidden by ostentatious displays of wealth. It seemed every fitting was gilded; every surface covered with reliefs, even the floors had a sound-deadening coating. He noticed some unfamiliar, oddly shaped structures in a few of the alcoves. He drifted over to one of them as they walked to get a closer look. What he found gave him a start. "_Great Maker!"_ he thought, _"Those are statues!"_ Lord Roglark was stunned in spite of himself. He had never seen a warship decked out in such finery save _Son of Kiro_, the Emperor's personal cruiser. He wondered if the vessel was even intended for battle.

Captain Classion, always sensitive to his Lord's disposition, inspected the ornamentation as well. Shaking his head Classion said quietly, **"Unless all of this is physically bolted to the floors and walls my Lord, I think Lord Refa is in for quite a surprise once **_**Rossingol's Truth**_** comes under fire."**

Lord Roglark grunted in agreement. He had heard a slowly rising undercurrent of noise as they got closer to their destination. The group rounded a corner and came to a loud, brightly lighted room. Lord Roglark thought for a moment about the layout of a typical _Primus_-class battlecruiser and knew they were entering the area close to the captain's quarters. He immediately saw differences from the standard battlecruiser: the hallways had been obviously changed, and he could not recall such a large room in this part of a _Primus._

They entered a room full of officers, marines, and honor guards. They all saluted the newcomers, giving Lord Roglark a quick **"Zu-ah!"** Except for the newcomers, there were no nobles in the room. Lord Roglark saw two House Refa marines, armed and standing at attention on either side of a door.

"**My Lords,"** the Sub-Prefect said, **"Lord Refa awaits in the adjoining room."**

Count Mintrose and Lords Ansilo and Esposial broke off their conversations and made their way to the other door. Lord Roglark shook his head once, glancing at Captain Classion, regretting that he was to be left behind. Classion caught his look, gave Lord Roglark a half smile and slightly shrugged. Lord Roglark shook his head disapproval at Lord Refa's segregation. In this room were the men of action, the ones that would be taking their ships into harm's way. _"The Scirafus was meant for these men as well as for me, "_ he thought.

As they crossed the threshold, Lord Roglark's ears hummed and he experienced a brief moment of vertiginous nausea. _"Lord Refa must be using scatter generators to prevent eavesdropping,"_ he thought._ "I wonder why..."_ He had once or twice experienced similar feelings in the sanctums of the wealthy and powerful, as he crossed the boundary of a scatter generators' field. Most nobles used the simpler interference modules to prevent being recorded electronically. Scatter generators were large, often having to be built into a structure. They were also hideously expensive as they not only prevented audio recording, but also created a subsonic 'noise' that supposedly prevented most telepaths from being able to concentrate their abilities.

The other Vorchan Lords glanced at the doorway as Lord Roglark and his accompanying group entered. They promptly gave short bows and words of greeting. Tables of refreshments had been laid out though there were no servants in attendance; they had been dismissed, as the Scirafus Antopurna was for nobles and soldiers alone. Recorded background music played as Lord Roglark walked over to where Lord Luco Vezini, Lord Matan Quaros, and Lord Antono Refa were talking with Lord Toden 'Papa' Jarno. Of Refa's associate, Count Desdinova Tyrcos, there was no sign.

Whipcord-thin, Toden Jarno was of average height though he appeared shorter as he stood slightly stooped, using an ornate bone and platinum sword cane. The cane was legendary, having been carved from the bones of a Narn that he had killed with his own hands during The Uprising. His silvery-white fan of hair bobbed as he talked animatedly with Refa and Vezini. Over a century old, he had outlived all of his sons and daughters and most of his grandchildren. Many Houses were salivating about what would happen to the proud House Jarno after 'Papa' was gone. His only surviving male grandson was a guileless, dreaming simpleton married to an unattractive harridan.

A smile split Lord Jarno's elegantly mustachioed face as he saw Lord Roglark approach. **"Roglark!"** he said. His gnarled hand snatched up a full _brivari_ goblet from a table. He extended it saying, **"Come, come, have a glass and join us."** He winked at Lord Roglark with one slightly rheumy eye and said, **"I do believe you will recognize the vintage."**

Lord Roglark took the proffered goblet, nodding to Quaros, Refa, and Vezini. As he savored the first sip, Lord Roglark realized with a bit of surprise that it was his family's label. **"It is from my House,"** he said. House Roglark turned out good _brivari_, in the older, less refined, unblended style. It sold well with the middle classes and lower nobility.

Lord Refa gave his typical slash smile and said, **"I made sure we were stocked with your House's vintage in honor of you Roglark." **With Refa, things were often not as they appeared, and Lord Roglark wondered if there was a deeper purpose behind the obvious salute. He could think of nothing specific, but he knew Lord Refa could clearly afford the ultra-premium level of liquor.

Lord Roglark glanced at the other Vorchan nobles mingling about the room. He noticed two that were not of the Vorchan faction: Lord Urza Jaddo, and Lord Londo Mollari. He knew they were close friends, having been in the same fighting society as youths. Jaddo seemed to have made himself comfortable, his brash personality fitting in with the present company. He was one of the most recent moderate Lords that had joined the campaign, welcoming the chance to add his House's warships in the campaign against the Drazi. Lord Roglark could tell by his tone and words that it would not be long before Lord Jaddo counted himself among the Vorchans rather than as a moderate.

Of Mollari, Lord Roglark was not so sure. He seemed a bit more withdrawn than his friend Jaddo, though Lord Roglark knew his reputation as a careful strategist. He was a bit surprised that Mollari had chosen to send ships for the campaign. Mollari was not coming with the fleet himself. Like Refa, Mollari was a sitting ambassador and had been forbidden to go on campaign. Lord Roglark knew he had pressing matters as Ambassador to the Earth Alliance. Mollari had recently been tasked to secure the continued neutrality of the Earth Alliance, to blunt any overtures of friendship from either the Narns or the Drazi, and to forestall any calls from the League for a crusade against the Republic like the one against the Dilgar. Lord Roglark caught his eye and briefly raised his glass in salute, Mollari returning in kind.

Lord Refa abruptly began striking his glass with a utensil, the crystalline ringing calling everyone's attention. Once all eyes were on him, he characteristically deferred to Lord Vezini. Refa preferred to work behind the scenes whenever he could. Lord Luco Vezini started the Scirafus Antopurna, calling upon the blessing of the Great Maker, asking for the aid of the Lord of War, the benevolence of the Master of the Waves, the favor of Mistress Fate, and the forbearance of Mother Death. Every man in the room gave the proper responses at the appropriate times. They all drained their glasses, and the final part of the Scirafus Antopurna began.

In the days during the Xon wars, those that were not going forth to battle each took a bottle and poured those taking ship a final glass, promising to keep the remainder to drink with them upon their victorious return. In the event that those going to battle did not return, those staying behind also promised to save the bottle for their fallen comrade's surviving sons. Should that not be possible, they were to pour the portion of the bottle belonging to their fallen comrade into the sea, that he might still drink it in the afterlife.

They all lined up into two rows, those going to war facing those staying behind. Lord Roglark was disturbed to see those leaving for war were outnumbered by more than two-to-one. There was a small bit of confusion and embarrassment as those staying behind realized each man could not participate in the ritual, they were too many.

They shuffled about, trying to decide who should participate in the Scirafus. Lord Roglark stood with his empty glass held out, growing more impatient, angry, and disgusted by the moment. With the exception of Lord Londo Mollari and his friend Lord Urza Jaddo, the other Lords elbowed and argued about who should participate in the ritual, acting like an assembly of ill-mannered schoolboys. _"Not a one of them is grappling for a chance to fight for the Republic, and only a few even sending more than a pittance of ships or men" _Lord Roglark thought, _"But they seem happy enough to gouge out each other's eyeballs to pour for a Scirafus Antopurna."_ He realized with a start that most of those staying behind were cronies of Vezini and by extension, Refa.

Shaking his head in anger, Lord Roglark was about to chide the scuffling nobles when he noticed Lord Jarno. The ancient noble was shaking slightly as he gripped his cane and glass _brivari_ goblet. At first Lord Roglark thought the trembling was just a result of advanced years, but as he saw the scowl on Jarno's face, Lord Roglark realized it was rage. Lord Roglark glanced at the other nobles going to war, and the same mixture of anger, impatience, and growing disgust showed on their faces. Abruptly Papa Jarno swung his arm and smashed his empty goblet to the deck. Conversation stopped as everyone snapped around to find the origin of the shattered glass.

"**I am ashamed!"** Lord Jarno barked. **"**_**We**__**,**_" he growled, motioning to the few "**are about to depart for war against the Drazi, while all of **_**you**_**,"** he leveled an age-crooked finger at the many,** "stand there bickering and squawking like a gang of undersexed hags!"** The other nobles going to war murmured their assent.

Realizing this might get out of control, Lord Vezini stepped over to Lord Jarno. He reached out and grasped Jarno's arm. Through his politician's smile he spoke in a soothing voice, **"Come now Papa..."**

Lord Jarno wrenched his arm away from Vezini snarling, **"Do not EVER call me 'Papa' again!"** Still quivering with fury he motioned to Lord Refa and said, **"From this serpent I expected nothing less, with his 'timely' appointment to the Corillani, yet even still he has sent a significant force and his best man."** He turned back to Vezini continuing, **"But you! I had thought better of you, Vezini."** Jarno shook his head sadly, the fan of white hair fluttering. ** "You had best thank the Great Maker that I am not your father, because if I were, I would shave your head and have you whipped by slaves from one end of this ship to the other for your cowardice!" **

The silence in the room was deafening. Lord Vezini's smile slid away from his eyes, though not his mouth. Everyone stood aghast as Lord Jarno spit on the deck and said, **"I will not share one of our cherished traditions with the likes of these capomani."** There was a quick intake of breath at the word 'capomani', it being an insult to military men, a questioning of their bravery. Literally translated it meant 'hearth commander', or one 'who commands from home'. It was an insult that dated from the early wars on Centauri Prime, used for admirals and generals that would not lead from the front, but rather stayed home and let their subordinates do all of the dying. Lord Roglark remembered his friend from Earth, Admiral Patrick Doyle, telling him the Terrans had a similar insult: 'chateau general'. He found that he could not disagree with Lord Jarno. The self-serving actions of his brother Vorchans were nigh on revolting.

After delivering his insult, Lord Jarno turned and limped from the room, his bone cane tapping. Just before he crossed the edge of the scatter generator field he gave his parting shot, **"You father must be vomiting inside his burial vault to have a son like you, Luco Vezini."**

The silence was heavy in the room. Lord Roglark had seen this before: once the Vorchans achieved some sort of victory, they turned on each other. Those more self-serving began to use the prestige from the victory for their own ends, rather than for the betterment of the Republic, or even the advancement of more Vorchan ideas. He had thought perhaps this time would be different than all those others, perhaps because the victories had reawakened thoughts and feelings absent in the masses for more than a generation. Here was a chance to restore the prestige, the glory, and the pride of the Centauri Republic, and men like Vezini, and Refa, and their sycophants would squander the opportunity to keep themselves safe.

Placing his still empty glass on a table, Lord Roglark looked at his fellow nobles, and saw some of those not going to war seemed despondent, some ashamed, and some petulant. _"Perhaps I can salvage this situation,"_ he thought. "**My Lords,"** he said, **"Conscript Fathers, please listen."** The room turned to him as he deeply inhaled and continued, **"Tomorrow we embark for war, war beyond our own borders for the first time in fifty years." **He paused, gauging the reluctant nobles that had not chosen to go to war. They almost seemed asleep, lazing in that same ignoble slumber that his beloved Republic had just shaken off.

Lord Roglark gestured vaguely to the wall, and by extension the space and ships beyond. **"Out there our soldatii wait, ready to do their duty for the Republic." **He turned and pointed to the door Lord Jarno recently exited, **"Beyond the door are the commanders and captains that will lead them, that will carry our banners. They are all your vassals and clients, the loyal guardians of all we hold most dear."** He paused and looked about the room. Though both Urza Jaddo and Londo Mollari were gazing at him with the new light of fervor in their eyes, the Vorchan Lords still seemed asleep, not willing to meet him in the eye, all save Vezini's quiet fuming and Refa's reptilian stare.** "Will you not go with them?"** Lord Roglark quietly asked.

He looked them over again, fighting to contain his contempt, then continued in a sterner voice, **"The Republic calls you to your duty Conscript Fathers: the hour is at hand." **Lord Roglark stretched out his arms and asked,** "Will you not go with us? Will you not go forth to claim victory, and honor, and glory for the Republic?"**

He paused again, finally seeing some small result of his words with the reluctant Vorchan Lords. He inhaled to speak again but was cut off by Lord Urza Jaddo, **"By the Great Maker! Even if no others come, **_**I**_** shall go with you Roglark!" **He jumped to grasp Lord Roglark's arms in the gesture of friendship. As he stepped into the group of nobles going to war, they greeted him warmly, slapping his back.

Lord Roglark turned again to the reluctant nobles and said, **"Urza Jaddo shames you all."** That seemed to be the breaking point of a few of the remaining nobles. Abruptly Lords Ansilo and Hamata, along with Counts Mintrose and Grausay stood up straighter, cast a contemptuous glance at Vezini, and walked over to Lord Roglark's side of the room, all of them shouting, **"I too, shall go with you!"**

Even with those four, there were still far too many staying safely home. "**Will you not come with us?" **he asked one last time. Lord Roglark tried to control his anger at these selfish nobles, some whom he had wrongly called friends, putting their own petty agendas ahead of the good of the Republic. A wave of hot rage swept over him as he shook his head angrily then asked in a hissing whisper, **"Where are the Vorchans in this room?"**

He gestured to the Lords standing with him saying, **"Ah, I see some, about to cover themselves in glory, ready to do everything the Republic requires." **Lord Roglark looked the remaining up and down contemptuously. Allowing some poison into his voice he said, **"Yet all I can see **_**here**_** are a gaggle of fainthearted malingerers."** **"Scavengers,"** Lord Roglark said bitterly. **"Scavengers that would drape themselves in stolen bloodstained banners and use the honor and glory earned by others for their own avaricious aims."** He shook his head sadly continuing,** "All the while staying safely at home to diddle their serving women."** Lord Roglark snorted, **"Just like wild basifs, ready to steal prey from those that gave their life-blood to earn it." **

The insulted nobles began murmuring, with Lord Vezini finding his voice first, **"Now see here Roglark..."**

Lord Roglark held up his hand, cutting off the sputtering Vezini. Motioning to Vezini and his companions Lord Roglark snarled, **"I will ****NOT**** go to war with **_**THESE**_**!" ** He snatched up his empty glass from the table and hurled it to the floor, adding its shards to Lord Jarno's. There was a quick bombardment of _brivari_ goblets as all of the nobles going to war, almost as one, cast their glasses to the floor.

Lord Roglark knew he dared not offend Refa too deeply. Though the other Vorchan nobles he had just insulted had sent few men, ships, or materials, Refa had sent an entire battlegroup. Also, as the new ambassador to the Corillani, a wrong word or lack of diligence from him could possibly create problems for the campaign. Corillani space was alongside the fleet's major supply lines, and they had no love for their former Centauri overlords. He gave a short head bob to Lord Refa saying, **"Lord Refa, I thank-you for your hospitality, and largesse in outfitting the fleet."** Lord Roglark glanced sidelong at the murmuring nobles surrounding Vezini and said, **"But I believe we cannot stay."** Lord Refa pursed his lips, shrugged, and gave a small nod in return. Lord Roglark turned and marched from the room, all of the nobles going to war departing with him. Lord Mollari drained his glass and bowed to Lord Refa, then quickly departed as well.

As soon as Mollari crossed the edge of the scatter generator field, the room burst into noise as the Vorchan nobles began grousing and babbling amongst themselves. Lord Vezini turned to Refa and said, **"That thrice-damned whoreson! Just who in the Seven Yellow Hells does Roglark think he is, damned second-tier upstart..."** Lord Vezini immediately looked contrite remembering his ally was also a second-tier family, **"No offense meant Refa,"** he quickly added.

Lord Refa gave another of his thin smiles and waved away the apology saying, **"None taken, of course."** Refa stroked his chin for a moment then asked, **"What do you intend to do about this Luco?"**

Vezini thought for a moment. A smile slowly grew, splitting his whiskered face, though the smile did not enter his eyes. He looked over at the other Vorchan Lords, listening to their indignation. Vezini drained off his glass and said, **"Perhaps Roglark has outlived his usefulness."** A malicious light sprouted in his eyes as he said, **"Excuse me Refa, I must talk to a few people."** Lord Vezini moved over to the other Lords and bombastically entered their conversations, laying the groundwork for his plans.

Lord Refa sat back down in his chair and watched Vezini for a few moments. Without turning he quietly said, **"You heard?"**

Count Desdinova Tyrcos silently glided up behind his liege. **"And saw,"** he replied.

"**Things are moving quickly," **Refa said.** "I had not thought Roglark would break with Vezini so soon."**

"**It seems his recent...ah...**_**brushes**_** with Mother Death have only...emboldened him,"** Tyrcos mused.

"**Indeed,"** Refa agreed. **"Most men would become more cautious after such experiences,"** he said. Shaking his head he continued, **"Perhaps two incidents so close have given him a sense of invulnerability."**

"**Tesu was a fool to awaken such...dauntlessness,"** Tyrcos growled.

Refa shrugged saying, "**A miscalculation."**

"**Tesu is a worm,"** Tyrcos said. A half smile curled up as he said, **"But if he is...no longer of value..."**

"**No,"** Refa ordered. **"Like an exposed piece on a **_**jamour**_** table: if we leave him out there, he will deflect attention from...other movements."**

Tyrcos let out a pent up breath then asked, **"And after this piece has...played its part?" **

"**You know he is yours my friend," **Refa said in a placating tone.

Tyrcos grunted his approval. Refa continued to watch as Vezini held forth to his reinvigorated allies across the room. Each one was gazing at the performance with a mercenary gleam in his eye, adding quick comments and snatches of laughter. _"They really do sound like a gang of undersexed hags,"_ Refa thought.

"**Is Vezini right?"** Tyrcos asked, breaking their silence. **"Has Roglark outlived his usefulness?"**

Refa heard the hunger in the question. **"Patience, my good Count Tyrcos."** Refa shrugged then said,** "In time he will no longer be needed."**

He could hear the sigh of discontent as Tyrcos said, **"As you wish, my Lord."**

As he sat watching his nominal comrades, the dark machinery of Refa's thoughts spun to life. After a moment he turned to Tyrcos and said, **"No, we need Roglark for a bit longer my friend."** A great deal of laughter chorused from across the room as Vezini said something bawdy, drawing the attention of both Refa and Tyrcos. **"Now **_**that**_** one on the other hand..." **Refa said as he slightly gestured to Vezini, "**After today's debacle, his usefulness has just about run out."** Refa paused then added, **"As has Lord Jarno's."**

A predatory smile split the face of Desdinova Tyrcos as he said, **"As you wish my Lord."**

Lord Roglark set a quick pace back to the flight deck. The House Refa Sub-Prefect had to scamper to keep up, trying to escort Lord Roglark and his group of nobles and officers. The group behind was angrily discussing the situation. Captain Classion and his marines wisely kept quiet, knowing that until he had calmed down, their Lord preferred to be angry in silence. Classion was able to grasp the basics of what had happened by listening to the other nobles and their officers, and worried that perhaps his Lord had gone too far.

The short flight back to _Terhali's Satisfaction _was almost completely silent. Lord Roglark's only words were to tell the shuttle pilot to take off, and to give Captain Classion permission to sit. Lord Roglark quickly paced the small cabin of the shuttle, arms behind his back, and a storm upon his brow. Thendon Classion knew his Lord well, and refrained from any comment during the flight.

Once on board _Terhali's Satisfaction _Lord Roglark dismissed the marines with a short barked order. He gazed at the flight deck, watching the pilot ease his shuttle back into its proper pre-flight position. The evolution took longer than usual as other members of the crew were hanging multi-colored bunting and pennons in anticipation of the Emperor's arrival later this evening. Lord Roglark waited a moment longer then said, **"Walk with me, Thendon."**

Captain Classion followed Lord Roglark to his quarters. Once there Lord Roglark continued to pace after waving Classion into a chair, which Thendon did not take. Still standing at attention, he waited a beat before saying, **"My Lord..."**

Lord Roglark stopped his pacing and turned on Captain Classion. Though the Captain was no stranger to dangerous situations, and was a decorated combat veteran, what he saw in his Lord's face gave him pause, and a small bit of fear. Lord Roglark was in a towering fury, one the likes of which Classion had rarely seen in all their long years of friendship. The first time was over the suspicious death of his younger sister, Lady Adanetta. A bloodbath had ensued over that, with a young Jentavus Roglark exacting a hideous vengeance for what turned out to be an assassination . Classion did not wish to see such things repeated here and now.

Lord Roglark saw his old friend nearly recoil in fear from him, the blazing fire of his anger was immediately quashed. Shoulders slumping, head down, he took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. When he looked up, though some of his anger remained, the white-hot rage, the world-destroying fury, was gone. He sighed and said, **"Thendon, my friend...I am sorry."**

Captain Classion gave him a wry smile saying, **"You do not have to apologize to me."** He paused then said, **"But Jentavus...what you have done..."**

Lord Roglark dropped down into a stuffed chair, Captain Classion taking one opposite. **"Yes, I know,"** Lord Roglark said. He immediately sprang up out of the chair and began moving about the room saying, **"But you weren't there Thendon. You didn't see how they were: scuffling and arguing for a chance to pretend to fight for the Republic."** He paused then added, **"It was revolting."** He gave a short laugh and said, **"Did you hear what 'Papa' Jarno called them?"**

Captain Classion smiled in spite of the situation, and simply said, **"Yes." **

Lord Roglark shook his head angrily, his fan of hair rippling, as he said, **"It is just like always: once the Vorchans achieve any sort of victory, they turn on each other trying to reach the top. Each one cutting the throats of the other so they can stand on the bodies of the dying."** He snorted in disgust and said, **"Our good friends from Earth have a phrase for just such a display: they call it a 'circular firing squad'."**

Thendon chuckled and said, **"The Terrans have a quaint saying for everything."**

Lord Roglark chuckled right along and said, **"They do indeed, Thendon, they do indeed."**

"**What shall we do now Jentavus?"** Classion asked.

"**I have probably started several new feuds today..."** Lord Roglark trailed off. He inhaled deeply then continued, **"But be that as it may, even if the nobles I insulted do not claim vendetta against me, at the least they will withdraw their support for the war."**

"_The Drazi are vicious fighters,"_Captain Classion thought_, "We will need every ship we can get."_ **"How much will we lose?" ** he asked.

Lord Roglark stopped in his tracks and calculated. **"A rough estimate,"** he said, **"about eight percent of the total force, mostly in lighter warships. Closer to ten percent of the available munitions, support vessels, and supplies."**

Even after all of this time, Classion was still impressed by Lord Roglark's memory. **"That cuts our margins a bit thin, my Lord," **he said. **"Can the other nobles, or perhaps the Emperor..."**

Lord Roglark stopped him and said, **"After today's events, that is exactly the course I am..." **Abruptly the inter-ship comms played the hail for Lord Roglark, interrupting his words. He held up a hand to Captain Classion and said, **"I am here."**

"**Comms here, I am sorry to disturb you my Lord,"** the Comms Officer said in a placating tone. **"We are receiving a video transmission from the Emperor's ship: he will be entering the Immolan system within the hour and commands you to receive him immediately after."**

"**You have recorded the message?"** Lord Roglark asked.

"**Yes, my Lord." **There was a pause then the Comms Officer said, **"I am transferring it to your console now, my Lord." **Lord Roglark's desk console chirped signaling it had received the recording.

"**Good,"** Lord Roglark said. He paused then continued, **"Acknowledge the message and send this reply: we are overjoyed that his Majesty will arrive shortly, and would be delighted to receive his Majesty entirely at his convenience."**

"**Aye, my Lord,"** the Comms Officer said.** "Comms out." **

As Lord Roglark turned toward his desk, Captain Classion said, **"If you will excuse me, my Lord. I will go and relieve Ordillo."** Lord Roglark nodded. Captain Classion stopped in the doorway and said, **"I will be on the bridge if you need me, my Lord."**

Once he was gone, Lord Roglark sat at his desk. He punched in the commands for the computer to lock the door. He then activated an interference module, and turned on the playback of the transmission from the Emperor's ship. Immediately the plump figure of Lord Olish, the Royal Secretary, appeared. The opulent interior furnishings of _Son of Kiro_, the Emperor's cruiser, back dropped him.

As Lord Olish droned out the formal words of his message, Lord Roglark punched in an encryption code to the console, then spoke the word, **"**_**Rutzhel**_**,"** into the voice pickup. _Rutzhel _was a word in Xonach, the millennia-dead language of the extinct Xon, meaning 'mystery' or 'surprise'.

The screen flickered and a second recording began to play, having been carried secretly within the other, official, message. This new message also featured Lord Olish, the Royal Secretary. Lord Olish had been silently in the employ of Lord Roglark for the past two years.

"**My Lord,"** Olish began, **"The Emperor will arrive shortly at Immolan. He brings a gift for House Roglark: replacement warships to replace your personal losses at Ardun."** Lord Roglark 'hmphed' as Olish continued,** "Once your audience with him is concluded, he will offer you a boon, a special request for you alone in recompense for your exemplary service against the Narns, and as an allurement for future loyal service."** Lord Olish's round face split into a smile. He gave a slight bow and said, **"Good luck, my Lord."**

Lord Roglark leaned back in his chair. He put his boots up on the desk as he mulled over this new information. Certainly, the replacements for lost Roglark warships were welcome. He had re-outfitted several losses from his two clients House fleets with ships from his own, purchasing other warships to fill in his gaps. As for the boon, it could go a long way to make good on the soon-to-be-leaving support from the insulted Vorchan nobles.

Like a thunderbolt, an idea came to Lord Roglark: a possible plan that could use the Emperor's boon in such a way as to solve several problems at once. It came so suddenly that Lord Roglark started violently, jerking his feet off the desk and slamming his chair to the deck. He quickly erased the official message, and filed away the unofficial message in case it was needed in the future. Lord Roglark then stabbed the Comms button.

"**Aye, my Lord," **the voice said. **"Comms here."**

"**Get me Casamir, at the House Estates on Centauri Prime, as quick as you can,"** Lord Roglark ordered.

"**Aye, my Lord,"** the Comms Officer said. Almost two minutes went by as the Comms Officer worked on the request. Lord Roglark could overhear the sounds of the bridge over the open pickup as the connection was being made. The background sounds stopped as the Comms Officer said, **"I have Estate Manager Casamir for you, my Lord."**

"**Route it through down here and apply level six-and-six encryption."** Lord Roglark said. No encryption was perfect, especially not in the Centauri Republic, where breaking codes and reading other's messages was a widely enjoyed pastime. Only short burst transmissions could be protected, not actual conversations by two parties. _"But six-and-six should at least make anyone trying to listen in be unable to break it until it no longer matters,"_ Lord Roglark thought.

There were a few seconds as the reroute and encoding took place before his Estate Manager appeared on the screen. **"Casamir here, my Lord, "** he said. **"This is a secure line."**

"**Casamir,"** Lord Roglark said, **"I need you to link in with my wives and no one else."**

Casamir bowed and said, **"By your command, my Lord."** He began working on his end of the connection. Within minutes, both Lady Chantra and Lady Glaianna appeared in a separate box on the screen. They appeared to be together, and judging by their thick robes and wet topknots, they must have been in the pool. _"How...odd...that they are together,"_ Lord Roglark thought.

Chantra looked and sounded concerned as she said, **"What is it Jentavus?"**

Lord Roglark smiled broadly, showing his pointed incisors. **"My dear ladies,"** he said. **"I have some important news."**

Lord Roglark and Captain Classion rode the private lift down from Lord Roglark's quarters. His message to Chantra and Glaianna had cut their margin of time down to the bone. Lord Roglark checked his timepiece again as the lift dropped to the flight deck level of _Terhali's Satisfaction. _The doors opened and they hurried out into the hallway. On an _Octurion_-class battleship, the admiral's private lift was not in line with the flight deck, forcing them to take a side corridor.

They entered the flight deck and hurried to where the Emperor's shuttle would land. Across the entire expanse of the flight deck were white, purple, and gold bunting and pennons. Off to one side a band waited, instruments at the ready. A line of House Roglark and client officers stood at attention flanked by a double file of House Roglark marines. Lord Roglark and Captain Classion finished their walk across the flight deck to wait upon Emperor Turhan and his coterie.

They passed along the line of officer's, all of them saluting Lord Roglark as he passed. Once they reached their place at the head of the line, Lord Roglark turned to Captain Classion and quietly asked, **"Is my uniform in order Thendon?"** Shaking his head he said,** "That new valet, Pagion, is hopeless."**

Lord Roglark's old military valet had died at Ardun when _Terhali's Satisfaction_ had been so badly damaged. Classion quickly inspected Lord Roglark's uniform. Everything seemed properly laid out, especially now that Lord Roglark wore no Governor's sash. Now that he was about to leave the Republic on campaign, Lord Roglark had shifted Quadrant 1 to his client, Minor Lord Keldane. As Governor-in-absentia, Lord Roglark only wore a Quadrant 1 ribbon through a buttonhole. Lord Roglark's Gradicolco had fallen askew during their dash across the deck. Classion reached out and straightened the rich blue ribbon and medal around Lord Roglark's neck saying, **"Your valet has done fine."**

Abruptly a ringing alarm blared once, alerting the party that the Emperor was about to dock. The flight deck door opened to space, surrounded by the faint glow of the gravitic field holding in the atmosphere. The Emperor's shuttle floated inside and landed in the marked off section of the flight deck, the bay door booming shut. Lord Roglark and his officers came to attention as the ramp slowly lowered. Down the ramp came a squad of Imperial Guard, taking up station in a double line, matching up to the longer line of House Roglark marines. Lord Roglark saw the band tense in anticipation as Emperor Turhan appeared at the top of the ramp and slowly walked down. The instant his foot touched the deck they began to play "Fanfare of the Gods". It was not the currently accustomed music played to welcome the Emperor, that usually being "Hail the Emperor Comes". Lord Roglark personally found the newer piece having an almost singsong quality, and felt it was inappropriate in formal settings.

Behind the Emperor came two of his Imperial Tetrapathy, gossamer white veils covering their faces. As he stood at attention, Lord Roglark found himself idly wondering if either of the women were the one he had mentally crossed swords with in the Imperial Palace. Behind the telepathic women came another cadre of Imperial Guards and several low ranking members of the Royal Court.

As Emperor Turhan stopped in front of Lord Roglark and his officers, the band finished with a final flourish. Lord Roglark and his officers bowed low from the waist to the Emperor. Turhan waved to give everyone leave to rise from the bow.

"**Greetings your Majesty," **Lord Roglark said as he rose, **"welcome aboard **_**Terhali's Satisfaction.**_**"**

"**Thank-you, Jentavus, Lord of the House Roglark, Erusalum," **Emperor Turhan said, giving the more traditional form of greeting. He stood looking at Lord Roglark for a moment then said, **"You may present your officers."**

Beginning with Captain Classion, Lord Roglark introduced the officers in turn. As each officer was introduced, Turhan politely asked each a small personal question, or referenced a family situation. Though the Emperor's natural aloofness and indifferent air marred the gesture somewhat, Lord Roglark was surprised at Turhan's attempt at amiability. He found some of his disdain for the Emperor crumbling and a grain of respect begin to form. Regardless of the fact that it was a politician's trick, remembering and asking after such details, it was still a compliment to his men. Having been blessed by the Great Maker with a truly dazzling memory, Lord Roglark was still cognizant how difficult others found it to correctly remember small details and facts. He did wonder however, _why_ the Emperor had gone to so much trouble to be briefed in such depth about his officers.

Lord Roglark observed Turhan as he paused before each man, almost as if waiting, then gave a faint smile, and began to reel off intimate knowledge about the subject. Lord Roglark had seen the look before: in the Centaurum, in recordings of public relations events, and most recently in the Imperial Palace gardens during his audience before the battle at Kotac. With a leap of intuition Lord Roglark realized how Turhan was performing his mental feat. _"I would be willing to wager half of the family estates his women are feeding him what he needs to know,"_ Lord Roglark thought. _"I must be cautious..."_

Once all of the introductions were finished, Lord Roglark asked the Emperor, **"Would your Majesty care to see more of **_**Terhali's Satisfaction**_**?"**

Emperor Turhan paused to consider the offer then said, **"I believe this version of the battleship has four observation domes?"**

"**Ah, after our last refit, we only have two remaining, your Majesty,"** Lord Roglark said. **"One high aft near the bridge, and one ventral amidships."**

Turhan turned to address his group, **"I shall proceed alone to the ventral observation dome with Lord Roglark."** His Court bowed deeply. Turhan immediately gave them leave to rise and they shuffled to the side.

Lord Roglark whispered to Captain Classion, **"See to the comfort of the Royal Court until we return, and clear the areas surrounding the ventral observation dome."**

Classion nodded, then extended his arm to the Court and said, **"My Lords, if you will follow me."**

"**Lead on, Lord Roglark,"** Turhan said.

Lord Roglark led the way to the across the flight deck to the larger troop lift, as 'alone' for the Emperor meant no less than four Imperial Guardsmen and the two members of the Tetrapathy. They all boarded the lift. Lord Roglark said, **"Ventral deck,"** to the computer as the doors closed. They arrived in only a moment.

Lord Roglark exited first, the Emperor's party following. He led the way to the ventral observation dome. Riding on the ventral spine of the battleship, it was a small blister, a near-globe of transparent duotanium. Around the middle was a ring-shaped catwalk, allowing the viewer to look over the edge straight down, or around in an arc of nearly three hundred degrees.

Emperor Turhan went around to the center of the catwalk, motioning for Lord Roglark to follow. Lord Roglark came out to the Emperor, his iron heels ringing. The view was as breathtaking as the one from the bridge. Ships of every size dotted the starscape, lambent jewels softly reflecting the sunlight in shades of violet, gold, silver, and blue. Most of their drives were nearly dark, just a slight actinic flickering to show they were holding station against Immolan's gravity. He could just see the _Son of Kiro_ and her escorts. Lord Roglark stared at them a moment, seeing that they were more numerous than the Emperor's normal escort.

Turhan saw the direction of his gaze and said, **"Some of my escorts are a gift to House Roglark, to replace your losses in the battles with the Narn."**

Though he already knew Turhan was giving him the ships, he was surprised at how many there were. Worried that the two telepathic women might pickup some inkling of his foreknowledge from a surface scan, Lord Roglark began to mentally recite his ditty. He bowed from the waist saying, **"I am grateful for your Majesty's generosity."**

The Emperor was looking at the vast Roglark-blue underbelly of the battleship: the symmetrical arrangement of the matter cannons, the scattering of sensor nodes, the rows of ion cannon turrets, the long battle laser emplacement, and lastly, the vast twin black rails of the mass drivers. Shaking his head slightly to put off a shudder, he sighed and said, **"Lord Roglark, I wish to give you another gift. A boon. Any request that I can grant."** He gave a faint smile adding,** "Within reason of course."**

Lord Roglark bowed again, hiding his smile while saying, **"Again your Majesty, I thank-you."**

Turhan turned to face Lord Roglark fully and asked, **"So, what is it you desire that is within my power to grant?"**

Lord Roglark had thought long on this, having put together a whirlwind plan for his boon. The emergency communications with home had put the final pieces into place. **"If it please your Majesty, I would like the right to absorb all of House Tesu within House Roglark."**

The Emperor gave him an icy stare and said, **"What you ask is not easy, Lord Jentavus Roglark."**

"**If you allow this Majesty,"** Lord Roglark said, **"much unpleasantness can be avoided."**

"**How so?"** Turhan asked.

Lord Roglark inhaled deeply, savoring his sense of triumph for just a moment before speaking, **"As I am sure your Majesty is aware, during my last visit to Centauri Prime, and assassin made an attempt on my life."** Face now impassive, the Emperor nodded for him to continue. **"It was discovered that the employer of the assassin was Felix Tesu the Lesser."** Turhan stood silent. Lord Roglark took that as permission to continue, **"I had considered declaring the **_**Marrago**_** against Felix Tesu, or having him killed in the manner he selected for me."** A vicious grin appeared on Lord Roglark's face as he said, **"Or simply having him abducted and allowing my telepath Trajus to have some time alone with him."**

Emperor Turhan pursed his lips and said, **"Some of what you suggest could be construed as open warfare between Houses."** He paused, and then turning his attention to the starfield said, **"Something I have forbidden."**

Lord Roglark gave short bow and said, **"Of course your Majesty. I had also considered denouncing him to the Centaurum for breaking **_**your**_** law on House warfare."** He paused then said, **"But that will lead to his House, at best, being broken, and Tesu himself being beheaded as a traitor."**

Emperor Turhan felt outmaneuvered. A shift of this sort, granting Roglark's request and strengthening the Vorchan faction, would be unpopular with the Basifs. On the whole, they supported most of Turhan's initiatives, not necessarily because they believed in his ideals but because they saw it as a way to gather power, or curry favor, or to settle personal differences. But beyond that, Felix Tesu was related by marriage to Lord Tirash, the Speaker of the Centaurum, a valuable ally. He _was_ a true believer in Turhan's ideals. That was why he had put off deciding what to do with House Tesu: no decision left things as they were right now.

But, if Lord Roglark condemned House Tesu before the Centaurum...Turhan was certain the Lesser Tesu would be declared traitor. Felix Tesu the Lesser was just full of himself enough that he would not take the path his father had in honorable suicide, forcing Turhan to break the House. _THAT_ could be much more problematic.

Emperor Turhan projected his thoughts outward, hoping his female telepaths could pick up his worries and provide advice. _"He is tightly controlled...trying to block us..."_ came the thoughts from Ardrella. The most senior of the Tetrapathy, Vulnavia, sent to Turhan, _"He has prepared for this eventuality...contingencies upon contingencies...he may be willing to compromise if you can find the path..."_

Coming to a quick decision, Turhan sighed and said, **"It must appear as if it is more of an...alliance or protectorate."** Turhan mused a moment, turned back to face Lord Roglark and said, **"If you can make it so, along with a few provisos, I will grant this boon."**

"**What sort of 'provisos' does your Majesty desire?"** Lord Roglark asked.

Turhan began ticking things off on his fingers, **"First, you must still provide for the dependents of the dead men from Quadrant 17."**

Lord Roglark nodded and said, **"I could do nothing less, your Majesty."**

"**Second," **Turhan continued, **"you must adhere to the guidelines for a Rite of Absorption, and allow his client Houses to decide if they will continue as your clients, or leave to find other patrons."**

Lord Roglark nodded again and said, **"Of course, your Majesty."** Lord Roglark was certain Minor Lords Rayann and Jindalo would sign on as clients. Useless as they might be as men, their ships and materiel would be a welcome addition with the loss of Vezini's cronies. In time, he might be able to influence them to be more patriotic and less self-serving. Although Minor Lord Banadine already showed such admirable qualities, Lord Roglark was not so sure he would stay. But given a chance, Lord Roglark felt he might be able to convince him.

"**Lastly,"** Turhan said,** " as an example of good faith, you must give something toward this...alliance...someone in marriage perhaps."**

Lord Roglark smile as he nodded and said, **"I have just such a thing in mind, your Majesty."**

Emperor Turhan seemed surprised at that last, finding it unlikely that Lord Roglark would agree to promise his oldest daughter Renetta. **"Indeed?"**

Lord Roglark nodded his head and said, **"With your permission, Majesty, I would like to sever my marriage to my second wife, Lady Glaianna, and marry her to Felix Tesu the Lesser to solidify this...arrangement."**

"_Oh very well done,"_ Turhan thought. The Emperor again regretted that such a brilliant mind could not be dissuaded from its loyalty to the past. _"If only you could see how much could be accomplished if you were on my side..."_ **"I understand you and she are not...cordial to each other,"** the Emperor said diplomatically.

Lord Roglark cleared his throat in embarrassment and said, **"Yes, your Majesty. Though of late she and I have come to a much better understanding."** Turhan stared at Lord Roglark with an arched eyebrow. Taking as a sign he should explain further, Lord Roglark said, **"Glaianna is a fine Centauri woman, one who perhaps deserves someone other than me."**

Turhan's eyebrow arched ever further as he said, **"I am given to understand she has been known as a shrewd, manipulative, vain woman who had made it a game to try your patience at every turn."**

"**Yes, your Majesty,"** Lord Roglark agreed. **"She has played that game, and played it well."** He paused, considering how much to tell Turhan, then continued, **"But I believe much of her...difficult personality comes from how she was traded off to my House, by an older brother that seemed to care little for her except as a bargaining chit."** He shook his head slightly and said, **"Perhaps if my brother Aloysien had not received his True Calling, in time he may have been able to moderate her temperament, make her feel less used to settle an argument between her great uncle and my grandsire, given her a purpose in motherhood." **Lord Roglark shrugged and said, **"In my home, Majesty, she serves no purpose, and can, at best, only be a distant second to my Chantra."**

Emperor Turhan had heard rumors that Lord Roglark only kept the company of his first wife, and had allowed only her to bear all of his children, not just the heir. Turhan realized, abashedly, that he had no such close relationships. His wives were political (or in the case of Morella for mutual advantage). He had married off a sister before Ascending to the White, and two daughters since. It had not occurred to him to make sure of their happiness or even contentment. He vowed with his remaining daughter, and the next child to be, things would be different. His second wife was now certain she was carrying his son, and heir. **"Are you certain Glaianna will agree to this?"** Turhan asked.

"**I believe in time she will understand what she might gain, your Majesty"** Lord Roglark said. **"A much younger husband, one who will appreciate her beauty more than I."** He nodded and said, **"She will be allowed to bear children with Felix, something I have been assured she desires greatly."** Lord Roglark was certain that she would agree. He had already broached the subject with Chantra and Glaianna earlier. Both were enthusiastic about the idea. Lord Roglark had impressed on Glaianna the impressions he had of Felix Tesu: not too bright, impetuous, easily manipulated. He could see Glaianna warm to the idea that at last she might be treated as she deserved: a fine Centauri woman, able to become a mother and not vicariously live through someone else's life. Chantra had been happy that at long last, perhaps Glaianna would mellow a bit. In the last year she had grown to pity Glaianna, especially as Glaianna had wanted to take a larger role in raising the children, but knew she could not.

"**Will that be enough for her?"** Turhan asked.

Lord Roglark shrugged and said, **"In any case, your Majesty, she understands that my House is traditionalist: if necessary she will not disobey the **_**Patrum Famillium.**__"_ It was a bit of a conceit to even mention such an eventuality. Lord Roglark suspected Glaianna was already packing her things.

The _Patrum Famillium_. Turhan inwardly groaned at the dichotomy of Lord Roglark. One the one hand so forward thinking as to actually desire a happy outcome for a difficult and undesired wife, yet on the other hand clinging to such an outdated concept as the divine right of the Father of the Family to do with any member of the family as he saw fit, even unto death. Turhan sighed one last time and said, **"I will grant this boon to you, Lord Jentavus Roglark, Erusalum, under the condition you adhere to my previously mentioned provisos."**

Lord Roglark bowed deeply from the waist and said **"It is with great respect and humble gratitude, that I thank your Majesty for bestowing such tremendous gifts upon my House."** Though he could keep the smile off his face, he could not keep it from his voice.

"**When I return to **_**Son of Kiro**_** I shall make the proclamation public, that the...integration...might happen more speedily,"** Turhan said. He gave Lord Roglark a long stare then said, **"Please inform your family as soon as I have made the proclamation."**

Lord Roglark bowed again and said, **"Of course, your Majesty."**

Turhan turned back to the starscape, gazing at the mighty fleet gathered, and the cold stars beyond. Not having been dismissed, Lord Roglark turned his eyes out to the fleet as well. They both stood for a time, together, though each alone with his thoughts about the coming days. One saw the stars, full of regrets, wishing these times, and this war, had never come. The other saw the stars, and the only regret he had was that these times, and this war, had not come soon enough.


End file.
